


Beyond the Horizon

by glorifiedscapegoat, WhiteEevee



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: AU, M/M, Slow Burn, Superpowers, bed sharing, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 95,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorifiedscapegoat/pseuds/glorifiedscapegoat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteEevee/pseuds/WhiteEevee
Summary: “What can I do?”“You can run.” Nezumi’s smile was bitter. “The only way to protect your family and yourself is to run and hope you’re quicker than the Lab. Or…”Shion swallowed as Nezumi left the word hanging in the air. “Or?”“Or you could charge into the Lab head on. Try and take them down once and for all. If you do that, then everyone would be safe, and you could finally go back to living your carefree life with your family.”“What?” Shion balked. “But…” He glanced back at Karan and Safu. “I can’t. I don’t know how to do that. I can’t even control my power.”“I can teach you.”AU where Shion has telekinesis and Nezumi has telepathy. Updates every Monday and Thursday!
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 459
Kudos: 128





	1. Reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Shion! Since it's September 7th and our precious bean's birthday, we've decided that today would be the perfect day to post the first chapter of the collaboration we've been working on for over a year now!
> 
> It's been a thrill to work on this fic! We've been outlining it since early summer of last year, and we've been working hard on it since then. We're so grateful to finally be able to share it with you all!
> 
> If you have the time, please leave a comment and let us know what you think! We'll be updating new chapters every single Monday, so please keep an eye out for those and come join us for a new chapter! Your support really means a lot to us! Without further adieu, let's get the chapter underway!

Sunlight glinted off the edge of the blade pointed at Nezumi’s throat. It was a small, pathetic thing—the edge dull and chipped. Something grabbed in desperation. An experienced killer would have sought out something more efficient. Not a murderer, then. Just some down-on-his-luck thief who grabbed whoever was foolish enough to walk the streets alone.

 _You’ve got to be kidding_ , Nezumi thought, his eyebrows raising in a mockery of surprise. One minute he’d been walking down the streets of an unimpressive little town. The next, a hand had emerged from the alley, caught the hem of his jacket, and yanked him into the shadows.

Nezumi had anticipated the attack long before it went down. His life had been nothing but running. A threat lurking around each corner. When he’d sensed the person crouching in the alley, waiting to strike, he’d prepared for a confrontation. A difficult fight. They always came armed and prepared to deal with him—but rather than the men in dark suits Nezumi had been preparing to take down, he found himself staring into the face of an idiotic mugger.

The man in front of him was nothing to be concerned about. The sight of the knife was often enough to convince people to hand over their valuables, but Nezumi knew the man didn’t know how to use the knife. He held it all wrong. His fingers shook around the hilt, as if this were his first time pointing it at someone. Nezumi knew he could knock it from his hand in the blink of an eye.

“Give me your money, kid,” the mugger growled. The hood of his windbreaker had been pulled up over his head in a quick attempt to hide his face, but Nezumi could make out the shadows under his eyes. The deep hollows of his cheeks. This man either hadn’t eaten well, or drugs were somehow involved. Nezumi would bet money on the latter.

A physical confrontation was more of a hassle than Nezumi felt it was worth. Beating up an assailant ran the risk of attracting more unwanted attention. And attention was something Nezumi wanted to avoid, as much as he could.

Forcing a look of terror on his face, Nezumi said, “OK, OK. I will. Just—just don’t do anything crazy.”

Nezumi was a skilled actor. He’d been practicing looking genuine when he smiled. Looking scared on cue. Pretending he had no control of the situation when he was, in fact, the only one in control.

"Just shut up and give me your money!” the man snarled. For good measure, he jammed the point of the knife closer toward Nezumi.

 _Wow. Rude_. Nezumi sunk his teeth into his lower lip. He reached a hand into his jacket pocket, forcing his fingers to tremble. “OK,” he said, his voice coming out soft and wobbly. “OK, just don’t hurt me.”

“Give me your money and I’ll let you go,” the mugger assured. He held his free hand out, his wide eyes darting back and forth to the opening of the alley. “Just hurry up.”

Nezumi’s fingers curled around the contents of his pocket: a handful of leaves. He shakingly pulled them from his jacket, pretending fear of the knife had slowed his movements. Leaves had become Nezumi’s constant companion. The need for money and the inability to receive it reliably had left Nezumi with little choice but to fill his pockets with scraps of nature and trick his victims into thinking of them as currency. Not the most respectable thing in the world, but times were rough.

Nezumi lifted his head and peered through the darkness. His silver eyes sought out the pupils of the mugger’s eyes in the shadows. Eye contact was not a necessity in these situations, but it made his work easier.

As he pulled the leaves out of his pocket and presented them to the mugger, Nezumi looked into his dark eyes and Reached.

He pictured a large hand stretching across the space between them. The fingers pressed into the man’s mind, slipping into his pupils and weaving into the synapses pulsing through his brain. He drifted over the grooves of damage, the lingering effects of regular drug use. The lightning firing between the connections was weak where it should have been strong, and too concentrated in the areas it should have been gentle.

 _Look at this._ Nezumi scowled. Even if he stopped doing drugs all together, the man had done too much harm to his brain. It’ll never be the same. _No time for that now. Focus._

Nezumi latched onto the words bouncing through the mugger’s frontal lobe: _What is this kid trying to pull? Those are leaves, not money_! He caught them in his Palm before they could register in the man’s brain. Once Nezumi had grasped them, it was nothing at all to twist the thoughts around, to gently urge his own suggestions onward.

: _Of course it’s money_ ,: Nezumi said, his own mental suggestions weaving through the man’s mind like a needle and thin silver wire. : _These aren’t leaves at all. You could get a lot with these. This kid had a lot with him. What kind of idiot carries this kind of money in his pocket?_ :

A brief look flickered across the mugger’s face—and then Nezumi saw the shift in his eyes. The hungry gleam of greed. Nezumi felt the corner of his upper lip twitch into a smirk before he schooled it back into a terrified frown.

The mugger snatched the leaves from Nezumi’s palm. Without a glance back, he stuffed them into the pocket of his jacket and made a break for the mouth of the alley. He ran around the corner and disappeared.

As soon as he was alone, Nezumi let out a bemused laugh. He shook his hands out, a few specks of dirt from the leaves clinging to his skin.

It was easier to convince people with a low IQ to believe the things Nezumi wanted. The mugger might have had a higher IQ at one time, but prolonged use of substances tended to lower their ability to reject Nezumi’s mental suggestions. It was a gamble, some of the time—but Nezumi could often convince people to believe whatever he wanted.

It was a useful superpower, if not a risky one.

Nezumi exhaled. _Guess I’m going to need more money_. He bent down and took a small handful of pebbles from the alleyway. Stones were harder to trick people with, since he had to pretend they were coins rather than bills. People didn’t like taking coins as payment, but currency was currency. Nezumi deposited the stones into his pocket, then stuffed his hands inside. _There. That should get me through the rest of my time here_.

He didn’t plan to stay in town long.

He never did.

**⁂**

There were six large cities bunched together like gemstones on an unfashionable necklace. Nezumi didn’t know the official name of this particular one, though he’d heard it dubbed “Number Six” by a few less-than-happy citizens in the neighboring slums.

Number Six, like the rest of the cities, was broken into sections. The wealthier members of society lived in the northern half, called Kronos. Nezumi could spot the houses in the distance, elegant white structures that rose into the air like rows of teeth. The valuables inside each house were almost worth the effort it would take to skirt the security and break inside. Though the thought had been tempting, Nezumi’s powers would not work on cameras. And it would look suspicious if he were to march onto a porch, dressed in ratty jeans and a ripped jacket, and simply walk out with pocketfuls of jewels while the homeowners happily waved him off. Horizon Labs already had agents on his trail. The longer he could avoid alerting their attention, the better.

The other half of Number Six had been given the name Lost Town. An unfortunately appropriate name. The little shops and houses peppered throughout seemed lost in the midst of the city’s majesty. Faded paints in an array of mismatched shades colored the walls of a convenience store. Halfway down the main street, a small white house with potted plants on the front step sported boarded windows on the second floor.

Nezumi scowled. Despite the obvious poverty of Lost Town, it was still nicer than some of the other towns he had passed through. There were no street urchins huddled together on the storefronts. No women with dirt lines on their cheeks desperately toting rotten produce and stinking meat. No corpses going ignored or unnoticed as drunks spilled from bars and passed out on the sidewalks.

The mugger in the alley had been a rarity, it seemed. _Must be nice_ , Nezumi thought. He’d used his powers on more than a few wannabe thieves, but it never ceased to aggravate him. Carrying rocks and leaves in his pockets all the time just so he had something to convince them with could be more than a little frustrating. His jacket was often heavy—and there was always the chance that he couldn’t convince someone to believe what he wanted. That he would hand over the stones and they would be just that.

Most of the people foolish enough to rob Nezumi were either idiots or otherwise impaired, so they were simple to trick. He never bothered himself with the aftermath. After the thieves snatched the stones from his palms, convinced they were bills and coins, Nezumi didn’t know if the effects of his convincing lasted. Did the thieves race off, accomplished, only to cry out in enraged disbelief as they found their palms streaked with dirt from filthy leaves? Did the dealers those thieves then handed the stones over to knock them to the ground and threaten them with violence? Nezumi didn’t know and he didn’t care. That was the risk they took when they decided to make him a target.

Toward the end of the road, Nezumi could just make out a faded sign jutting from the stone walls of a little shop. It swayed in the gentle mid-afternoon breeze. As he approached, he could make out the words ‘KARAN BAKERY’ etched into the wood.

As his mind registered the word “bakery,” Nezumi’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t had much to eat the past few days. He’d been too focused on ducking the man in the black suit pulling up along the curb half a block away from him. Nezumi had hoped it was just some regular guy on his way to a job interview—and then he’d spotted the logo on the right arm of the man’s suit. Even from a distance, Nezumi knew what it was. A golden sun rising above the words HORIZON LABORATORIES stitched with garish orange lettering, like something from a cheap slasher film.

He’d managed to avoid getting detained by the agent, but it had been…difficult. Between his hurried trip through the city, hiding out in the forests lining the roads connecting each of the towns, and his run-in with the mugger, Nezumi hadn’t given much thought to food.

Nezumi made his way down the street and eased the door to the bakery open. A little silver bell above his head announced his arrival, and Nezumi’s stomach tightened.

He did a quick survey of his surroundings. It was a small space, with a single wooden table set in the middle of the room. A dark-haired girl sat at the table with a steaming mug of coffee set in front of her. A counter separated the back of the room from the rest. Inside the glass case were boxes of pastries in a variety of shapes and colors. Nezumi recognized muffins and a few different types of cookies. There were others he had no name for: coiled pastries with cream poking out from the ends, miniature pies with nuts sprinkled on top, and a dark purple cake sliced into eighths set on the bottom shelf.

“Hello,” came a voice from behind the counter. Nezumi spotted another kid about his age, a boy with a mess of shaggy brown hair and dark brown eyes. He had a pleasant smile on his face. A genuine smile, not the fake grin Nezumi had seen on retail workers who would rather be anywhere else.

Nezumi lifted his chin in brief acknowledgment and walked to the counter. His hands, stuffed in his pockets, curled around the cluster of pebbles. He’d have to convince the kid they were coins, but it would work. If he did it subtly enough, he doubted the girl at the table would notice. She seemed lost in thought, staring out the window with a bored look on her face.

“What can I get for you?” the boy behind the counter asked. Nezumi had stopped in front of the register, and now he could see a half-full pot of coffee on a little table behind the boy.

Nezumi’s eyes swept over the boy. The kid still had that stupid smile on, but his eyes were wide and staring directly into Nezumi’s face. He wore a plain white apron over his clothes and no nametag.

“Coffee,” Nezumi said quickly, and the boy’s smile dropped just a bit at the edges. “Please,” Nezumi added as an afterthought. “And, uh…” He looked down at the case of pastries. He gestured vaguely toward the tray of blueberry muffins. “Two of those.”

“Of course,” replied the boy, his smile stretching back across his face. He turned to the pot of coffee behind him.

 _Is it normal for someone to smile that much?_ Nezumi wondered. _Doesn’t his face hurt?_

He clenched his hand around some of the pebbles. A coffee and two muffins probably wouldn’t cost more than a few bronze coins. He felt the jagged dips in the rocks, idly rolling them between his fingers. The boy took a little white mug from beneath the counter and filled it with coffee. The pleasant aroma struck Nezumi in the face and his stomach clenched again.

“Here you go,” the kid behind the counter announced. He set the mug in front of Nezumi, and then went to work pulling the two blueberry muffins from the glass case.

A sudden movement behind the counter caught Nezumi’s eye. His head snapped up, his gaze narrowed—but it was just another employee, a woman carrying a tray of sugar cookies.

The woman’s dark hair was tucked beneath a lilac bandanna, and there were laugh lines around her eyes. She must have been the kid’s mother. Their facial shapes were nearly identical. She gave Nezumi a bright smile as she opened the glass case and slid the tray of cookies into an empty slot.

Completely non-threatening. The kid and his mother were no one to be concerned about. The girl sitting at the table was also of little concern. Nezumi felt himself relax. It wouldn’t take much to convince the kid that the stones Nezumi handed over were enough coins to pay for the coffee and muffins. If he played his cards right, he could probably even get some _real_ money back as change.

The boy behind the counter set the muffins on a small white plate and set them down beside the cup. Nezumi went to take the pebbles out of his pocket and work his magic, but the kid held his hand up. “You can eat first,” he said gently. “Pay when you’re done.”

Nezumi froze. He stared the kid in the face. After an awkward moment he said, “OK.” He took the cup of coffee and the plate. He turned and looked out at the room. There was just the one table, with three unoccupied chairs. A bit awkward to share a table with a stranger, but Nezumi had done worse.

“I hope you like it,” the kid said. Nezumi didn’t look back, but he could picture that ridiculous smile on his face. He rolled his eyes and took a seat at the table. He sat opposite the girl, facing the door. He refused to have an entryway at his back. If a threat came through the door, he wanted to be the first to see it.

The dark-haired girl didn’t acknowledge him. She picked her coffee cup off the table and took a sip. She looked at the kid behind the counter and said, “This is good, Shion.”

“Thanks.” The kid folded his hands on top of the counter. “Mom thought a lighter roast would go well with the pastries. Do you need more sugar, Safu?”

“I’m all set,” the girl, apparently named Safu, replied.

 _Shion, huh_. Nezumi’s gaze darted briefly over to the older woman. Her bandanna was the same shade of purple as the flower her son had been named after. _Must be her favorite color_. He took a sip of his own coffee and let the warmth wash over him. The bitter taste slid across his tongue, but Nezumi had grown used to taking it with no sugar or cream.

He toyed with the wrapper around the muffin close to the edge of the plate. He went to take the paper off so he could start eating when the bell above the door jangled again.

Nezumi looked up. Two other customers stepped through the archway—and the cup nearly slid from Nezumi’s fingers.

A man and a woman, both dressed in black suits. Thin faces with matching black hair. Eyes dark and narrowed. Not a spot on color on either of them aside from the matching gold logos on the right bicep of their jackets.

 _No_. Nezumi quickly lowered his head, peering up at them through his bangs. _How? How did they track me here?_

He’d been so careful. The mugger had been no one. Nezumi had surveyed his surroundings. Horizon Labs had tracked him down in the last city, but Nezumi had evaded them. He’d vanished without a trace and left them in the dust. Lost Town was such a minuscule speck on the map that he’d been certain he could avoid them here.

Nezumi’s knuckles went white around the mug handle as the two agents stepped into the bakery. There were two of them. He could take them. He could knock both of them to the ground if he was quick enough and make a break for it. If they’d been sent after him, both of them would have scramblers. Those little buds in their ears would emit a low frequency that would interfere with his powers and prevent him from convincing them to do anything, so he had to rely on physical force to get past them.

“Excuse me,” said one of the agents. Her voice was thin and soft, as if she were having a hard time speaking. She looked at the woman behind the counter. “Karan, is it?”

Nezumi risked a closer look. Neither of the agents were looking in his direction. Both of them had crossed the room and stood off to the side of the counter, putting themselves in the path to the bakery door.

The woman in the lilac bandanna slowly stepped around the counter. “Yes,” she said. She had a smile on her face, but Nezumi could see the tension at the edges. “Can I help you?”

“My name is Toshiya,” said the second agent. He was taller than both women, his neck angled uncomfortably to look Karan in the face. Harsh circles darkened his eyes, and the lines around his mouth made him look older than Nezumi suspected he was. “And this is Sachiko. We have some questions we would like to ask you.”

“Questions?” Karan looked at the logos on the agents’ jackets. Her face went slack. “What is this in regards to?”

“We’ll ask the questions,” Sachiko replied. “You’ll answer them. Understood?”

Karan’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Mom?” It was Shion. He had started to come out from behind the counter, a look of worry on his face. “What’s going on?”

“It’s all right, Shion.” Karan glanced over her shoulder and gave him what Nezumi assumed was meant to be a reassuring look. “Just give me a few moments.” She turned back to the agents. “I will answer your questions. How about we go upstairs, and we can speak? I don’t want to disturb the customers.”

Nezumi set the mug on the table. His fingers flexed. The path to the door was wide open. The agents were focused on Karan. Nezumi could make a break for it well before the agents had a clue what was going on—but something held him back.

The agents had come for _Karan_.

She wanted them to come upstairs to speak with her, but Nezumi suspected she had other plans in mind.

 _What can she do?_ If Horizon Labs had sought her out, then there must be something she could do that had them concerned. Nezumi looked around at Shion and Safu. Both of them were watching, quiet and still, holding their breath. Would it be possible for Nezumi to sneak upstairs after Karan had lured the agents up to witness what she could do?

“ _You_ will be coming with _us_ ,” Toshiya sneered.

“Wha—” Karan’s lips opened, and Sachiko darted forward and grasped her arm. Karan jerked her arm back on reflex, and Toshiya descended upon her. His large hand seized her wrist. “Hold on a moment. Stop!”

Nezumi’s body went cold. The room around him darkened at the edges. Images flashed before his eyes, overlapping and mingling with the sight of Karan struggling against the agents in black. His own mother, her grey eyes wild with terror, struggling in the grip of a man twice her size. He’d been wearing black, too. All black aside from that horrid yellow logo on his shoulder.

“Mom!” Shion hurried out from behind the counter as the agents began to haul Karan toward the door. “ _Mom!_ ”

“Mrs. K!” Safu sprang up from the table.

Her knee caught the frame and Nezumi’s coffee sloshed over the rim and splashed on the surface. The sudden movement yanked Nezumi back to reality. The sight of his mother pleading with the agent shifted back into Karan.

“It’s fine!” Karan’s eyes were wide and wild. She twisted in the agents grips—not to get away from them, but to look at Shion. “It’s fine, Shion. It’s going to be alright.”

Shion grabbed Toshiya by the arm and tried to pull him off his mother. “Let go! Let go of her!”

“Shion, stop!” Karan’s voice rose above her son’s. “It’s OK! It’s OK! Just calm down!”

“Beat it, kid!” Toshiya jerked his arm, and Shion stumbled back. His spine caught the edge of the counter, and he grunted in pain. “This has nothing to do with you. Your mother will be back once we’ve had a little talk.”

 _Liars_.

Nezumi shoved his chair back. Neither of these agents had been sent after him. That most likely meant neither of them had scramblers. He couldn’t see those telltale red buds in their ears. Neither of them seemed very intelligent, either. Attacking a woman in her own bakery in broad daylight. Twisting their thoughts would be nothing. Erasing their minds so they would never know they’d seen his face would take no effort.

As Nezumi rose to his feet, three things happened all at once:

Shion screamed, “Let go of my mom!”

Karan shrieked, “Shion, calm down!”

The hairs on the back of Nezumi’s neck stood on end as something in the atmosphere shifted.

And then the bakery exploded.

Nezumi hit the ground. Shards of glass rained all around him. A thunderous crash echoed through the small room. Safu’s shriek pierced the air as she too dove for the ground, her arms thrown over her head.

And then everything was silent.

Nezumi slowly lifted his head. His ears were ringing. Shion stood in the center of it all, his hands hanging limp at his sides. His eyes were wide, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Now that Nezumi looked, he realized the bakery itself hadn’t exploded, but all the glass inside _had_. The glass case containing the pastries was gone. The table and floor were covered in chunks of glass that shone like silvery gemstones.

The windows had blown outward. None of the glass had speared through anyone, but the way the two agents gawked at Shion, it might as well have.

Karan looked at her son. Taking advantage of the agents’ confusion, she jerked her arms from their grips and darted to Shion. Her hands clamped down on his shoulders. “Honey.” Her voice rose, too loud in the silence that had followed. “Shion, it’s OK. It’s OK, honey.”

“Mom,” Shion whimpered.

Both of the agents jolted, shocked back to reality. “You,” Sachiko sputtered. “How the hell did you do—?” She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t matter. You’re coming with us.” She jerked her head to her partner. “Call for backup. We’ll—”

“How about you don’t?” Nezumi called out. He rose to his feet as Toshiya and Sachiko turned and looked at him. He gingerly stepped over the glass. “Pretty nasty gas leak, wasn’t it? Blew the glass all over the place. But sometimes that happens in these old buildings. Probably wasn’t up to code.”

Toshiya bared his teeth and growled, “Who the hell are—”

Nezumi looked right into the man’s face. He locked eyes with him, taking note of the dark flecks embedded in his irises. Peering into the agent’s eyes, Nezumi Reached and said slowly, “It was a gas leak.”

The light went from Toshiya’s eyes. The anger twisting up his face vanished like a candle flame blowing out. He rocked back on his heels, his hands stilled at his sides, and he murmured, “Yeah. Yeah, it… It was a gas leak.”

“A bad one,” Nezumi added.

“A _bad_ one,” the agent echoed.

“Toshiya, what are you talking about?” Sachiko demanded. Nezumi turned to look at her and Reached. Her eyes widened, and then her face went blank. “Right...it was a gas leak.”

“You came here for coffee,” Nezumi said. He made sure his voice was loud and commanding. He lifted his chin and ordered, “You’re going to go back to your superiors and tell them you didn’t find who you were searching for. The tip you received was a false lead. A gas leak happened in a bakery in the town. You have nothing else to report.”

“Nothing else to report,” Toshiya replied with a sincere nod.

“The tip we received was a false lead,” Sachiko added.

“Good.” Nezumi looked at the bakery door. “It’s time for you to go.”

The agents nodded and, without a word, marched to the door. They went out single-file and disappeared around the corner. Nezumi watched the door for a moment, ensuring the agents wouldn’t break through his mental shifts and come rushing back.

When a moment had shifted and they didn’t return, he looked back. Karan stood with her hands on Shion’s shoulders, watching Nezumi intently. Shion’s eyes were wide, his hands trembling. He kept glancing at the broken glass scattered throughout the bakery. Safu had climbed onto her feet, resting her hands gingerly on the table. A shard of glass had scraped across her cheek, and a thin line of blood trickled down to her chin.

Looking at the three of them, Nezumi squared his shoulders. He pressed his lips into a thin line. He watched, one by one, as their faces shifted into looks of shock as he Reached out to them all and said, : _We need to talk_.:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	2. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for making chapter one of _Beyond the Horizon_ such a rousing success! We're both very pleased that everyone seems to be enjoying it so far, and we look forward to continuing to post it! Without further adieu, here's the second chapter!

Before she led them upstairs, Karan locked the bakery door. Nezumi didn’t point out that the action was wasted since the windows of the bakery were blown out and an easy breeze wafted freely into the room. He recognized that she did it out of habit, or perhaps to wrest some kind of control out of the situation. Either way, it was her business.

Once she finished, Karan directed the group quietly around the counter, through the kitchens, and up the staircase in the back room. The space upstairs was all the rooms in a house squished into one. A kitchenette and a table for two stood to the right of the doorway, and a makeshift storage space for clothes and odds and ends lay to the left. A neatly made bed rested against the wall in the far corner, and a faded brown couch was positioned opposite. The window at the back of the room let in as many sunbeams as it could manage through its pane; the small potted plant on the sill stretched its leaves to catch them.

The condition of the room was worn, but well maintained. There were no luxuries, only the modest minimum of what was required to live. _Still,_ Nezumi thought as he stepped into the middle of the room, _it’s more than a lot of other people have._

“Would you like to sit?” Karan asked.

She had closed the door, but the rest of the group hovered near it, as if ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Nezumi couldn’t help but smile.

“No, thanks,” he replied. “I prefer to stand.”

Karan nodded. “I’m Karan,” she said after a lengthy silence.

Nezumi turned his most pleasant smile on her. “Got that from the sign outside. And from the screaming match. Safu and Shion, right?” He looked at the girl and boy in turn.

Safu bristled at once. “And you are?”

_Plucky_. As someone who also channeled anger in uncomfortable situations, Nezumi appreciated her no-nonsense attitude, so he answered without his usual lip. “Nezumi.”

Safu’s body angled to shield Shion—which was amusing. Her friend had just unleashed a concussive blast that blew out every bit of glass in the bakery, but yet it was he who needed protecting? Nezumi peered at the dark haired boy behind her. Then again, at the moment, Shion certainly didn’t look like he was brimming with explosive energy. He was pale and shaken, and watching Nezumi back with large, worried eyes.

“That’s quite the power you have,” Nezumi said to him. Shion swallowed and glanced at his mother.

Safu apparently didn’t like him interacting with her friend. She took a step forward, obstructing Nezumi’s view. “Who are you, really?”

“Safu....” Karan began, but Safu cut her an exasperated look.

“Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious? He shows up, and all of a sudden someone tries to attack you!”

“He saved us.” The voice was Shion’s. Karan and Safu glanced at him, but Shion’s gaze was fixed on Nezumi. “Thank you for that.”

Nezumi shrugged. Honestly, he did it as much for himself as he did it for them. If Horizon Labs looked too closely at the incident, they’d be back on his trail, and he’d only just threw them off.

“Don’t forget you did some of the work,” Nezumi said. “In fact, I bet you could have taken care of them yourself, if you wanted to. Although, I agree my methods are less messy. Maybe don’t announce your location to everyone in a fifty-foot radius next time?”

Shion shriveled into himself. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Who were those people?” Karan asked.

Nezumi turned his grey eyes on her. “Agents from Horizon Labs. Low level thugs, lucky for you.”

“Horizon Labs?” Safu blinked.

“Oh? You’ve heard of them, then?”

“Well… Yes. They’re the leading pharmaceutical company in the country.” She bit her lip and glanced between Karan and Shion. “What would they want with Mrs. K?”

Nezumi chuckled darkly. “Horizon Labs doesn’t just dabble in medicine; they also specialize in turning humans into weapons. But Project Valiant and its VCs don’t get as much press coverage.” A note of bitterness crept into his voice. “Unfortunately for them, most of their first batch of super soldiers escaped a decade or so ago. The Lab has been trying to round them up since.” Nezumi glanced at Karan. “I’m guessing you know a little something about this?”

“I…” Karan knotted her hands in her apron. “Well, no, not exactly. But, my husband, he… He could do things.” Her face softened as she traveled into her memories. “He made the most wonderful illusions…”

Then, quick as the reverie came upon her, it broke and Karan’s face pinched at the corners. Shion placed a comforting hand on her forearm. Karan petted his hair and smiled.

“He didn’t talk about his past much, though,” she said after a moment. “We were together for only a short time, and I didn’t hear him mention Horizon Labs at all. And I haven’t seen my husband in years.” Her face contorted. “You don’t think those people—that Horizon Labs captured him, do you?”

Nezumi narrowed his eyes, and gave this some thought. But it didn’t make sense whatever way he reasoned it. “Unlikely. If they had captured your husband, they would have no reason to seek you out. It’s more likely they’ve only just traced his movements back to you.”

Karan nodded, but the lines of worry and sadness remained in her face. Nezumi got the feeling that although she didn’t wish ill on her husband, there was no relief in realizing his whereabouts were still unknown or unexplained.

“The Lab doesn’t know whether you keep in contact with your husband or not. They’re desperate to collect all the ‘volunteers’ that escaped, so they wouldn’t leave a lead unchecked once they’ve tracked it down. Plus, you have a son. Horizon Labs is very interested in the children of their escapees. For good reason.”

Nezumi arched an eyebrow at Shion. A faint flush spread over Shion’s cheeks, but whether it was from embarrassment or shyness, it was hard to say.

“Although…” Nezumi mused, turning back to Karan, “it seems like they came only for you, and had no idea about junior here.” A ripple of offense crossed Shion’s brow at the address. Nezumi smirked and continued, “You must have been very careful about keeping him off the radar. His power isn’t exactly subtle.”

“We try to avoid stressors,” Karan said, running her fingers through Shion’s dark hair again.

“There’s some meditation involved,” Safu added, but her voice was grumpy. “But Shion doesn’t keep up with it.”

Shion’s blush deepened. “I do it when I remember…” His gaze flitted to Nezumi and then landed on the floor. “I can’t control it. When I get scared or angry, I just… But I haven’t had any problems in years! That was the first time...”

Nezumi suspected as much, given Shion’s explosion today. That was definitely not the showing of someone who was in full control of his power. But even so, Shion had enough awareness to only affect the glass and not harm anyone in the room. That took some skill—a promising amount. The question still on Nezumi’s mind, though, was whether Shion’s power was merely concussive, or if he had a full telekinetic on his hands. The latter would be so much more useful.

Nezumi snaked his Reach toward Shion. He hadn’t had much experience exploring another person’s power—only what his mother and father had let him practice on them years ago—but he could feel the well of power calling to his like a beacon. Nezumi Tugged on the reserve, gently.

Shion gasped and Nezumi stumbled back a step as an invisible force punched him in the chest.

“Ow,” Nezumi mumbled under his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time someone landed a hit on him, physically or mentally. In spite of the throb in his sternum, a smile rose to his lips.

“Did you just...?” Shion’s expression twisted with a mixture of anger and shock. “Did you use your power on me?”

“I did, yes. Sorry.” Nezumi threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender and put on an apologetic face. “I just needed to confirm what you could do.”

“You could have just asked,” Shion growled.

“I could have, but you said you can’t control it. And,” Nezumi gave him a pointed look, “would you have shown me if I asked?”

Shion only glared in return. The cabinets to the right began to rattle ominously. They only settled again at a quiet word from Karan.

_So_ not _merely concussive. And he’s got a bit of a temper. This just gets better and better._

The hope in Nezumi’s chest grew brighter. In all his years of traveling, he had met only one other person with powers, and that was an elderly man who could talk to animals. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure if the man _could_ talk to animals as he claimed, or if the goats he owned were just exceptionally intelligent. Regardless, he had never met anyone remotely useful in his journeys.

It’s been just him since Horizon Labs tracked down his family eight years ago, and he hadn't been able to rest easy since. Nezumi's power was strong, but the Lab knew that and they'd spent years chasing and building up defenses against him: scramblers to block his mind infiltrating abilities, and agents who got faster and smarter every time he gave the last group the slip.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was tired. He was weary of scurrying off like prey whenever he saw a shadow, weary of wandering day after day with stones and leaves weighing his pockets down. And if he was tired, it was only a matter of time before he slipped up and the Lab collared him.

If he was ever going to be free of Horizon Labs, then he needed to fight back, and make it a definitive strike at the heart of the beast. Nezumi would never let himself rely on another person, but he could conceive of utilizing another's power to help him make that strike. Shion was a walking bulldozer of untapped power. He might not know how to control his abilities now, but that was due to lack of practice and motivation to learn. Nezumi knew how to teach, and nothing lit a fire under one’s ass like imminent capture and experimentation.

But if he wanted to secure Shion as a tool in the overthrow of Horizon Labs, he had to get the kid on his side. The sour, slightly ashamed look on Shion’s face wasn’t a good start. Nezumi shifted his posture to reflect a less snarky, more trustworthy him, but before he could begin making amends, Safu spoke up.

“So you’re telepathic?” she asked. Safu’s hostility had ebbed as they talked, but now that Nezumi had toyed with her precious friend’s head, she was all snips and sneers again.

“I am.”

“And you escaped from Horizon Labs?”

“Several times. Nearly every week, it feels like.”

Safu scowled and Nezumi had to remind himself he was supposed to be likeable. Safu’s instant dislike of him made him want to talk back. Probably because he had grown spoiled: people typically liked his face on sight and acted polite to him because of it.

“I wasn’t part of the group that escaped Horizon Labs,” Nezumi amended, trying for a placating tone. “My parents were, though.”

His clipped statement must have conveyed the taboo of inquiring further into the topic, because Safu frowned, but didn’t push. Karan’s dark eyes searched him and Nezumi pointedly avoided her gaze.

“And you can do mind control?” Safu said after a beat.

“Whoa now. ‘Mind control’ sounds a little hokey. I’d say it’s more persuasion.”

“Is what you do permanent?” Shion asked. “Will those agents come back here?”

The atmosphere in the room stilled. Three pairs of anxious eyes fixed on Nezumi. His stomach gave a painful twist.

Nezumi was a realist and a cynicist. He would never give someone false hope, and besides, telling the truth would benefit him in this case. But despite his selfish reasons for wanting Shion to join him in taking down the Lab, a part of him wanted to tell these people that everything would be fine. The fledgling hope on their faces reminded him of himself as a child, alone for the first time in his life and desperately praying that if he commanded the agents to stay away enough times, the Lab would eventually give up on him.

But they never stopped coming and he learned to stop praying.

Nezumi exhaled slowly through his nose. “Those agents probably won’t come back, but the Lab will. The misdirect won’t work forever. Eventually they’re going to realize it wasn’t a gas leak, and since you escaped once, they’ll suspect something bigger is going on and send a larger force. Once they’ve tracked you down, they don’t let you go.”

Karan and Safu’s faces paled. Shion had already been pale from fear and fury, but now he looked miserable as well.

“I’m sorry,” Shion mumbled.

“It’s not your fault,” Karan said, and instantly swept him up in a tight hug. Safu joined in and Nezumi was left feeling strange and apart.

He didn’t want to have anything to do with the scene before him, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for spoiling this family’s happiness with his dark truth.

“You never would have avoided the Lab,” Nezumi said, because there was no point in holding back now that he’d begun. “At least this time you were able to keep your mother out of their clutches. If they took her from this bakery, there’s no telling when or if you’d see her again. And if they capture you, Shion, I guarantee you won’t return.”

Shion pulled himself from his mother and friend’s embrace. “They’ll imprison me?”

“That’s the least of it.”

Shion’s body shook as he breathed in the insinuation. “What can I do?”

“You can run.” Nezumi’s smile was bitter. “The only way to protect your family and yourself is to run and hope you’re quicker than the Lab. Or…”

Shion swallowed as Nezumi left the word hanging in the air. “Or?”

“Or you could charge into the Lab head on. Try and take them down once and for all. If you do that, then everyone would be safe, and you could finally go back to living your carefree life with your family.”

“What?” Shion balked. “But…” He glanced back at Karan and Safu. “I can’t. I don’t know how to do that. I can’t even control my power.”

“I can teach you.”

Shion’s eyes widened. Nezumi had to admit, it wasn’t his smoothest proposition, but he was growing agitated in this company and with the length of this conversation. He was out of practice with socializing past persuading people to give him food or lodgings.

“Both our powers have mental alignments, and as you felt, I can influence your power. I can help you control it. But in exchange, you have to help me wipe the Lab out.”

Nezumi knew he was asking a lot from this virtual stranger. The fact that he needed to ask anyone for anything at all smarted his ego—but his ego was not bigger than his survival instinct. And if Shion refused, he would be no worse off than he was already.

_But…_ Nezumi’s chest ached with the word. He tamped down on the feeling before it grew into something resembling hope.

: _So?:_ Nezumi prompted in mindspeak : _Will you do it?:_

Shion held his gaze for what felt like an eternity. He seemed to be searching for something, but as to what that was, Nezumi couldn’t know. He could plant ideas in people’s minds, send his thoughts to them as clearly as if he were whispering in their ears, but his abilities never went so far as being able to read another’s mind.

Shion balled his fists at his sides. He drew in a single, shuddering breath, and then exhaled, “...Yes.”

Nezumi’s heart stuttered. The fevered buzzing in his brain was as close to joy as he had felt in a long while.

“Shion!” Safu grasped her friend’s arm. “If Horizon Labs is as dangerous as he says, then this is a suicide mission. You can’t go.” Shion didn’t acknowledge her or her plea. Safu growled in the back of her throat. “Mrs. K?”

Karan covered her mouth with her hand, but she just stared at Shion and didn’t say anything for a heavy moment. “Are you certain?”

Her voice was a small, sad thing, and Shion deflated a little under its influence. “If what he says about the Lab is true, then there are people like us who are in danger. And I might be able to help them.

“No matter what, you and Safu are in danger if I stay. If Nezumi can teach me how to control my power, and if it will keep you safe… Then I want to go with him. If I have to run, I might as well be heading towards something.” A flare of determination lit in Shion’s eyes.

It was a good speech. Even Nezumi felt a bit fired up. A half an hour ago, Nezumi was scoffing at how silly and smiley Shion looked behind the bakery counter. He never expected he would ally himself with such a person, or that Shion possessed such strong spirit. His strong moral compass, however, Nezumi probably could have pegged.

“Fine,” Safu said. “Then I’m coming too.”

“What?” Shion choked at the same time Nezumi said, “Absolutely not.”

“Safu, you can’t,” Karan said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You don’t have powers.” Shion winced as he said it, as if he knew that it would offend her.

Safu scowled. “So what if I don’t have powers. You don’t need powers to fight. People have been fighting without them for thousands of years.”

“Sure,” Nezumi said. “So you’re an expert marksman, then? Or a ninth degree black belt in some martial art? No? I’m sorry, what are you meant to be fighting with then?”

Safu’s glare was doing a fine job of mentally flaying the skin from Nezumi’s face.

Nezumi shrugged. “If you don’t have anything to offer but your can-do attitude, you’re not coming.”

Shion took Safu by the hands. “Safu, please. I need you to stay here with Mom. I need you to be safe.”

Safu tried to keep the stubborn look on her face, but it melted under Shion’s earnest gaze. She pressed her lips together and stared hard at him. Nezumi was certain she was either going to kiss Shion or burst into tears, and was a little disappointed when she did neither and hung her head instead.

“Thank you,” Shion breathed. “And I’m sorry.” His thumb grazed the thin cut on her cheek where the glass had sliced it and his expression crumpled. He wrapped Safu in a brief, tight hug, then turned to Nezumi. “I’m guessing we should leave as soon as possible?”

Nezumi nodded.

Shion fisted his hands at his sides. “Give me a minute.”

He moved to the side of the room and began to pack a bag. Karan and Safu drifted to him and they began the quiet act of helping him, with the occasional whispered word. Nezumi turned from them and crossed to the window. The view was front facing, and he could see people milling about on the street below. Some slowed to look at the shattered face of the building. Someone on the corner was talking to a police officer and gesturing toward the bakery.

Nezumi’s skin itched. They needed to go. Now.

He turned back. Shion had just begun to zip the bag closed.

“Right,” Nezumi said as he stared into Shion’s dark eyes. “One more thing…” He glanced at Karan and Safu hovering on the periphery.

Nezumi cleared his throat. “I said before my power was more along the lines of persuasion. I can change people’s perceptions of their reality, and part of that is convincing them what they think they know isn’t true.”

A sense of unease rippled through the room. Nezumi was prepared for such a reaction, however, and addressed Karan and Safu in the same flat tone. “If you let me, I can alter your perceptions so that you believe today’s incident was truly a gas leak…and erase any memory of Shion from your minds.”

This time the ripple was more of a wave of shocked silence.

“You mean…” Karan quivered. “You can make us forget Shion exists?”

Nezumi slipped his hands into his pockets and gripped the stones inside until he felt them dig into his palms. “It will make lying to the Lab easier. Faultless, actually. Even if they realized that someone tampered with your memories, they’d know then that bothering you was useless. They’d leave you alone.” Nezumi’s gaze flicked to Shion for a brief moment. “You’d be safe.”

“No,” Safu bit out. “I don’t want that.”

Karan shook her head. “I don’t want that,” she echoed, her voice hollow. But she injected a bit of energy into her next statement. “We can handle it. Don’t worry about us.”

Karan placed a hand over Shion’s cheek.

Shion tried to smile back at her, but it was watery. “I love you,” he said, giving his mother and then his best friend a long look, as if he were trying to absorb every last aspect of their feelings and faces. Tears tracked down Karan’s cheeks, and soon Safu and Shion’s faces, too, were wet with silent grief.

Nezumi clenched his jaw and moved around the group to the exit. “Come down when you’re ready.”

He closed the door gently behind him and stood on the staircase. He sighed into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	3. Ground Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! Thank you so much for all the support we've received on this fic so far! We've had so much fun writing it, and it really means a lot to both of us that all of you have enjoyed it so far! Here's to another chapter! <3

Shion stood at the top of the stairs. His fingers clenched around the strap of his backpack. He’d filled it with two pairs of clothes, a first aid kit, his wallet, his phone, and a few croissants wrapped in plastic. His eyes stung as he forced down a second wave of tears. The light in the stairwell flickered. _Not now_ , he told himself. _Keep it together just a little bit longer_. He could cry all he wanted later, once he was far away from the bakery.

Squaring his shoulders, Shion descended the stairs.

In the foyer below, the stranger stood waiting for him. He leaned against the banister with his arms folded over his chest. His dark hair and leather jacket bled into the shadows.

Shion froze as the boy’s silver eyes shifted toward him. Shion had never seen eyes _that_ color before. Not a pale blue or green, but the dangerous color of thunderstorms.

“It’s about time,” said the stranger.

Shion swallowed the angry lump in his throat. The stranger― _He said his name was Nezumi, didn’t he? It doesn’t suit him at all_ ―had saved him. He’d saved Safu and Shion’s mother. If he hadn’t been there to turn those agents away with only a thought, there was no telling what would have become of them.

Shion’s mind was a mess of confusion and frustration. He could feel the prickling sensation in the back of his skull he attributed to his powers. He could also feel the lingering sensation of fingers dragging gently across his frontal lobe. He’d instinctively shoved them aside, but it still made him reel to know there was someone out there who could touch his _thoughts_.

An uncomfortable chill raced down his spine. If Nezumi could reach into his mind, did that mean he could read his thoughts as well?

Shion gnawed his lower lip. He’d never felt self-conscious about his thoughts before. A bit scared by some of the negative ones when he was having a rough day, but his thoughts had always been his own. If Nezumi could reach into his mind and read them, Shion wondered what he would hear.

 _Oh, God, can he hear me right now?_ He looked at Nezumi and thought, _Can you hear me right now?_

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” demanded Nezumi. “We’ve got to get moving.”

Shion jolted backward. “Right.”

Nezumi exhaled and muttered something that sounded like, _Seriously?_ Shion tightened his grip on his backpack and breezed past the stranger and out the backroom.

The sunlight struck him in the face as the door clicked shut behind him. Shion squinted into the alleyway behind the bakery. The dumpster sat at his right, overflowing with black bags and flies. The disposers hadn’t come for the third day in a row. A small gray cat stretched out across the alley and dozed in the late spring warmth.

Nezumi came to stand beside him. The strands of his dark hair glimmered in the sunlight. _It almost looks like metal_ , Shion noted. He wondered if it would cut his skin if he were to run his fingers through it. He glanced away, his face flushed at the thought.

“First thing’s first,” Nezumi said. “Shut off your cell phone.”

Shion reeled back at the cold command. “What? Why?”

“Once the Lab realizes you ran away, they’ll try to use the GPS in your phone to track you down.”

“Oh.” Shion swallowed. It made sense, of course, but… “You mean… I can’t turn my phone on, ever?”

“No. Not to call mama or bestie, not to do anything. The phone stays off. You’re better off leaving it at home, actually. It’ll just be useless baggage.”

Every word from Nezumi’s mouth was like a physical blow. He would not be able to talk to his mom or Safu again. Not until this was over—if it ever was over. From this moment on, he and his family were estranged, neither able to check in on the other, never knowing if they were safe or hurting.

Shion pressed down hard on the emotion threatening to rise up his throat. He had to remind himself he was doing this for them, that this was the only way to keep his loved ones from further harm.

Nezumi watched him, seemingly indifferent, as he hesitated. If Shion couldn’t do what he asked after all, what would he do? Cut his losses, wipe his memory, and leave him here to face the Lab alone? Or would he take the phone from Shion by force?

Shion drew in a deep breath. He pulled his cell phone out of his backpack and powered it down. Nezumi’s shoulders dropped, almost imperceptibly.

“Let’s go,” Nezumi said. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and made his way down the alley.

Shion trotted to keep up with him.

A few moments passed in complete silence. Shion’s legs burned as he struggled to keep up the pace. He was by no means out of shape, but had never needed to run before. His lungs ached as he took deep breaths through his nose and released them through his parted lips.

Shion had spent much of his childhood in the alley behind the bakery. Lost Town was lacking in child-friendly spots to play, so Shion and Safu made due under Karan’s supervision in back alleys. He recalled Safu’s laughter as she sketched pictures with colorful chalk her grandmother had bought for her birthday. The litter of kittens Shion had watched grow until they’d wandered off to different streets.

His heart clenched. Once he left Lost Town, there would be no more chalk drawings. Those two agents from Horizon Labs had made it impossible for Shion to continue living in the bakery.

_Why am I doing this?_ Shion thought a second later, as he and Nezumi rounded the corner of the alley and were deposited onto the main street. A few cars were lined along the street in front of the small assortment of shops, but no people in black uniforms waiting for them. _I don’t know Nezumi at all. He’s just some person who came into the bakery this morning. Why did I go along with him?_

Shion knew why. The bakery windows were smashed to pieces because he had no idea how to rein in his emotions. He supposed he could take his chances with Horizon Labs if push came to shove, but he had no idea what he was up against. And without any control over his powers…

Shion exhaled.

“Jesus, that’s the third time you’ve sighed like that.” Nezumi continued down the street, but he slowed his pace long enough for Shion to catch up with him. “Knock it off.”

Shion’s shoulders shot to his ears. “Sorry.”

“Whatever. Just keep up.”

“Where are we going?” Shion asked.

Nezumi snorted. “Anywhere but here.”

Shion’s shoulders dropped. He’d suspected that already, but hearing it aloud was something else entirely. “Nezumi, what were you doing in Lost Town?” Shion asked, the words bubbling up before he had a chance to stop them. “Were those agents chasing you before you got here?” His body went cold at the thought. Had those agents been following Nezumi, and that was what had led them to his mother’s bakery?

 _No, that’s not it_ , Shion remembered. _Those agents were going to ask Mom some questions about my father. They didn’t even know Nezumi was here until he made them leave_.

Nezumi made a face. “Nothing important and no, in that order. Anything else you want to ask me?”

Shion’s eyes flickered over Nezumi’s face. Pale skin and those piercing silver eyes. There was a feminine shape to his face, and he had high cheekbones and a pointed chin. He wore his hair back, a few strands hanging loose around his shoulders. _He’s beautiful_ , Shion thought. It felt more like a statement of fact than a compliment. No different than stating that the sky was blue and the grass was green.

Beneath that beauty, however, lurked something dangerous. Nezumi was like a wild animal. Calm and beautiful at a distance, but terrifying in a primal way up close. Shion felt immediately on edge. What sort of mystery lurked inside someone who could control people with a thought?

“Stop staring at me,” Nezumi said, and Shion quickly glanced away from him. “If you’re going to say something, just say it.”

“Sorry,” Shion replied. A moment of silence drifted between them, and then he said, “You said you could teach me how to control my powers?”

“I did.”

“But you’re not telekinetic.”

Nezumi snorted. “Excellent observation.”

“How are you going to teach me how to control my powers?”

“It’s not so different.” Nezumi withdrew his hand from his pocket and drifted his fingers through the air. Shion followed the movements, stunned by the beauty of it. Each of Nezumi’s movements were graceful and lovely. “As I said, both of our abilities are mentally affiliated. It’s all about control. Focus. If you learn what it feels like, you’ll know how to push in the right places. You’ll feel when you should push harder and when you should pull back.”

Shion blinked. He and Nezumi wandered in front of the grocery store. An old woman carried a basket on her arm. She waved at Shion, and he waved back. He couldn’t place a name to her face, but he was certain he’d seen her somewhere before. A customer at his mother’s bakery, most likely. Someone he’d seen in passing and now would never see again.

A pang bolted through his heart. This was the last time he would see any of this. The last time he would set foot in Lost Town, if he couldn’t learn to control his powers and if he couldn’t stop the Lab from chasing him.

“It never felt like much of anything,” Shion said quickly, shoving through the misery bleeding into his mind. “It just kind of...explodes. I’ll get stressed or angry and things just happen. It’s never been that bad before, but…” Shion wrung his wrists. “I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s almost like a pressure in the back of my head that comes quickly and goes away after something breaks.”

“Have you ever tried to use it?” Nezumi asked. “Like actually tried?”

Shion pressed his lips in a line. His first childhood memory was a disaster he could still see clear as day in his mind’s eye. He’d been playing with his favorite stuffed bear around bedtime. Karan had come in and calmly tried to put him to sleep. Not wanting to go to bed, Shion had screamed at his mom to let him keep playing. As soon as the words left his mouth, his bed had lifted off the ground like a feather in the wind and flown across the room. No amount of hugs, kisses, or reassurance had calmed Shion down that night.

“No,” Shion replied. “I haven’t tried.”

“A beginner, then.” Nezumi lifted his gaze skyward. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Shion felt like he should have been offended by Nezumi’s words, but he was still reeling from everything that had happened. In a matter of moments, his entire world had come crashing down around him. He hoped his mother would be able to explain the damage to the police. He hoped Horizon Labs would leave her alone now that he was no longer around.

How could one of the world’s leading pharmaceutical companies be involved in something such as human experimentation? It made no sense.

Shion had always known there were others like him out there, but he’d never considered their origins or seeking them out. His mother had told him stories of his father and his illusions. The night Karan met him, Shion’s father had dazzled her with a garden that changed colors with a mere wave of his hand. Karan had suspected him to be something of a magician―crafting illusions through a series of smoke and mirrors. It wasn’t until their wedding night that Karan had learned his magic was something more than an amusing deception.

Sometimes Shion was jealous of his father’s illusions. Though he’d vanished long before Shion could remember his face, Shion often found himself pining for powers that were less destructive. His father could trick people in his worst moments, but his illusions were never real.

The destruction to the bakery was real.

The bed Shion had tossed at the wall had been real.

Shion’s powers were unpredictable and dangerous.

And he would have given anything to be rid of them.

Something jammed into Shion’s shoulder, and he almost went sprawling. He caught himself and saw Nezumi glaring over his shoulder at him. It only took a moment for Shion to realize that he’d crashed into him.

“Stop spacing out!” Nezumi growled.

“Sorry!” Shion moved a few paces away from Nezumi. Frustration curled in his stomach like a snake.

“Christ.” Nezumi pinched the bridge of his nose. “OK, look, kid―”

“It’s Shion,” said Shion.

“Right. _Shion_. Look. This isn’t an ideal situation for either of us. The only way we’re going to get through this intact is if you do exactly as I tell you.” Nezumi’s silver eyes darkened. “That means not asking me stupid questions when I tell you to do something. When I say run, you run. This is a matter of life and death. These people will kill us if given the chance. Do you understand?”

Shion clenched his fists. “I do.”

Nezumi looked Shion dead in the face. He was only a few inches taller than Shion, but it was enough for him to need to angle his head back. “All right.” Nezumi jerked his head west. “Then stop spacing out and follow me already.”

He turned on his heel and hurried down the street. Shion took a deep breath and swallowed the wave of uncertainty that twisted inside him.

 _This is it, isn’t it?_ Shion’s fists clenched at his sides. He looked over his shoulder. The main street of Lost Town was almost empty, but Shion thought of the men and women he would never see again. The old woman who lived two streets down who came in on Thursdays for a blueberry muffin. The twin boys who played in the streets and skipped rocks. Safu and her beautiful smile. His mother and her kind brown eyes.

Shion closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His cheeks burned hot. His hands trembled. He was not going to cry. He would not cry until he and Nezumi were far away from Lost Town.

 _It’s going to be OK_ , Shion told himself. _It’s going to be OK_.

The air around him turned cold.

 _I’m not going to_ ―

“For Christ’s sake,” Nezumi snapped, “would you stop standing there and hurry up?”

Shion turned to face him and said through his teeth, “Would you give me a moment?”

The lids of the trash cans surrounding them quivered.

The rattling metal made Nezumi glance around, his silver eyes going comically wide. He took a cautious step back.

Shion took a deep breath and said, slowly, “Just―just give me a moment, all right?”

Nezumi’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Shion closed his eyes and took another breath. _Avoid stressors_ , he reminded himself. Well, the whole day had been nothing more than one big stressor. _Don’t freak Nezumi out. He said he’s going to help me. He’s a stranger, but he didn’t have to help us. The agents weren’t there for him. He could have snuck out and left us. That’s reason enough to trust him_. Shion ran his fingers through his hair and set his jaw. _OK. I can do this. I just have to get out of Lost Town. One moment at a time_.

He opened his eyes. Nezumi was still standing there. Shion nodded once and said, “I’m ready.”

Nezumi turned on his heel and went without a glance back. Shion gripped his backpack, stole one final look back at Lost Town, and then hurried along behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	4. Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Monday, y'all! You know what that means! Time for another chapter of _Beyond the Horizon!_ Thank you all for your support on this fic; it means so much to us! We hope you enjoy this chapter, too!

_This was a bad idea_. 

Nezumi shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets. Despite his constant warnings, Shion still dragged his feet behind him, gawping at everything, as if the shoddy little town was a place of rare wonders. Nezumi understood in part; Shion was growing nostalgic, perhaps even regretful. He was leaving his entire life behind and heading into a gapping, dangerous unknown. Of course that was stressful, and of course Nezumi understood this required some restraint on his part. He didn’t want to scare his new attack dog away before he even got him out of his backyard.

So Nezumi was trying to keep his snapping and urging down to one in every three instances—but neither patience nor sentimentality were his forte. And so, when at last Nezumi saw the edge of the town and excitedly picked up his pace, only to turn and find Shion staring longingly into a shop window, he finally lost it.

“Can you please,” Nezumi growled, striding back, “for the love of all that is holy,” he grabbed a hold of Shion’s arm, “hurry the fuck up?”

Shion blinked at him in confusion. It seemed Nezumi had yanked him out of another reverie. Shion’s face twisted as he registered the question.

“There’s no need to be rude,” Shion said, and peeled Nezumi’s fingers from his arm with a slight wince. “I just wanted to pay my respects to Lost Town before I leave it. Since I don’t know when I’ll be back.” His look was pointed, as if he were accusing Nezumi of being the cause of his misfortune.

_Oh, no you don’t._

“And whose fault is that?” Nezumi’s mouth curved into a feral smile. “I’m not the one who blew up his mom’s livelihood. In fact, I’m the one who cleaned up the mess.”

Shion flinched away from the venomous truth. Nezumi could see the fear and shame fighting in his expression, and mixed in with the turmoil in Shion’s dark eyes: the impulse to run from him.

Nezumi bit down on his sharp tongue. Even he had to admit that was a low blow. Not to mention it was counterintuitive to his interest to anger or alienate the telekinetic.

But it was a knee-jerk reaction. The moment Nezumi felt threatened, the claws slipped out automatically. He had been fighting for his life so long, he forgot how to do anything but attack.

“Look,” Nezumi said calmly. “Like it or not, we’re stuck together now. When the Lab returns, we’ll want to be as far away as possible. But at this pace, we’ll still be in Lost Town a week from now.”

Shion still stared at him like he wanted to cut his losses and make a break for it. Nezumi had to resist the urge to grab ahold of him again, or to look deeply into the other boy’s eyes and rearrange his thoughts until Shion believed it was in his best interest to do whatever Nezumi said.

_Behave,_ Nezumi warned himself. _Don’t spook the telekinetic just waiting to explode._ The aftermath of the last time Shion felt threatened still stuck freshly in his mind. Nezumi stood very still and kept his eyes trained on Shion’s, a little like Shion was a wild animal and Nezumi could convince him he was nonthreatening by not making any sudden movements.

Shion swallowed. “Alright. I’m—” He paused and dropped his gaze to the ground. “Sorry, you’re right. Let’s go.” Shion walked by him towards the edge of the town. Nezumi released the breath he’d been holding and followed.

In the last row of shops and homes, the warm salty scent of meat wafted through the air. Nezumi’s stomach gave an agitated grumble and he remembered that he still had not eaten. The coffee and muffins he’d ordered at Karan’s bakery had languished on the floor after the explosion, barely tasted. It made him mad to think of it, and that’s how he knew he really needed to eat before he bit Shion’s head off again in a fit of hungry irritability.

Nezumi searched for the source of the sultry smell and located a small delicatessen. The door was cracked open, letting the scents of meat and cheese waft out to entice passerby. Nezumi studied the owner through the window: an open-faced bearded man who hummed as he fixed the buckets of salad ingredients. The man didn’t scream low IQ to him, but he had an air of friendliness about him that was just as good an indicator of mental susceptibility. Kindly people didn’t want to believe that someone would lie to them, and therefore went happily along when you nudged them toward an illusion.

“What are you doing?” Shion had returned to his side and was staring through the window as well.

Nezumi glanced at the other boy. He had forgotten he existed for a second. _Actually…_ Nezumi eyed Shion’s bag. Maybe he didn’t have to trick someone today after all.

“Do you have any money?”

“Money? Well, I have...” Shion unzipped his backpack and pulled out his wallet. “This?”

Nezumi’s heart jumped hopefully. “Cash?”

“No, just a card.”

Nezumi hissed through his teeth. “No good. Can’t use a card; the Lab can track it too easily. You don’t have _any_ cash on you? How can that be?”

Shion narrowed his eyes at him. “It sounds like you don’t either.”

Nezumi screwed his mouth to the side. _Touché._

The moment of vitriol passed quickly, though, and Shion sighed. “Hardly anyone carries cash anymore….” He sucked his bottom lip and stared back the way they’d come. “Maybe we could—”

Nezumi held up a hand. “Don’t bother; I’m used to being poor,” he huffed. “Just stay quiet, alright?”

Shion looked equal parts apologetic and wary as Nezumi pushed open the wedged door.

The shopkeeper looked up and smiled. “Sorry, young man, we’re not open just yet.”

Nezumi smiled back, pleasant as can be. “Oh, but I’m a regular customer here. Couldn’t you make an exception?”

Nezumi Reached across the space and burrowed into the man’s memory, planting a spark of recognition there. When it took root, he Pushed, growing the spark until the man’s feelings towards him were as warm as an old friend’s.

The man blinked. He squinted at Nezumi, trying to reconcile the feeling with the face. Nezumi flexed the fingers of his outstretched influence and smoothed the doubts as they bubbled to the surface.

At last, the man’s confusion cleared. “That’s right. I didn’t recognize you for a second there, Ken!” he laughed, self-consciousness slipping into the tones.

_Ken? That’s a new one. I don’t look like a Ken, do I?_

Nezumi could feel Shion’s shocked gaze burning the side of his face, but he ignored it. Food was more important than Shion’s moral qualms.

“How have you been?” the older man asked.

“Hungry,” Nezumi answered truthfully, but with an airy grin that gave the insinuation of camaraderie.

The shopkeeper let loose another booming laugh, this one more genuine than the last. “Well then, how could I turn you away? What can I get you?”

Nezumi perused the selection and decided upon some cured meat and hard cheeses. Those should last them until the next town. And for the immediate moment, Nezumi ordered a turkey and cheese sandwich. He had already tucked into it before the shopkeeper was ready to ring him up. It tasted divine after the monotony of stale crackers he’d subsisted on the last few weeks.

The shopkeeper bagged the food and read out his total. Nezumi crammed the remainder of the turkey sandwich into his mouth—on the off chance this didn’t work, he wanted to at least be fed when they were thrown out—and sifted through his pockets. Shion’s eyes widened as he pulled out a fistful of pebbles and spilled them onto the counter.

**⁂**

Shion stared at the collection of dirt-smeared rocks, unable to make sense of what Nezumi meant by giving them to the shopkeeper.

“This should be just enough,” Nezumi said, his voice sweet and silken. It was a voice Shion recognized from the bakery, the same tone he used when Nezumi convinced the Lab agents to dismiss the explosion and depart.

Shion watched, slack jawed, as the shopkeeper at first frowned at the pebbles, then slowly smiled at Nezumi in a sad, kindly fashion. “Normally I don’t accept coins, but since you have exact change….”

_What!_ Shion’s morality kicked at his chest as he watched the man scoop the pebbles off the counter and slip them into the drawer of his register. He wanted to scream, _Those are rocks!_ But he paused when Nezumi spoke again.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” Nezumi murmured. “I’m sorry. I know it’s inconvenient….”

He dipped his head, and a look of embarrassment flashed across his face. The shopkeeper’s expression twisted with pity, and even Shion felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach. Nezumi really did look sorry.

“No problem,” the older man said. “Times are tough, eh?”

“You have no idea.”

Nezumi’s smile turned sarcastic at the edges. The mischievous glint in his eye dispelled the bud of sympathy in Shion’s chest, and Shion felt compelled once again to speak up for the shopkeeper.

_He’s such a nice man, and Nezumi is_ robbing him blind!

“Nezumi—” he started, but before he could get anything more out, a bag was shoved into his chest and a firm hand grasped his elbow and steered him towards the exit. Nezumi called a cheery farewell to the shopkeeper and closed the door behind them.

Nezumi snatched the bag of foodstuff back immediately, probably—and accurately—predicting Shion’s instinct to bring it right back to the shopkeeper.

“Perfect,” Nezumi said. “Alright, time to go.” He strode away and Shion hurried after him.

“That was stealing!”

Nezumi lobbed a dry look at him. “Let’s call it an exchange of goods. We have to eat, don’t we? You heard the man, times are tough.”

They had finally reached the edge of Lost Town. The woods outside the town loomed dark and cool.

“You could have just said you were hungry,” Shion grumbled. “I have food.”

Nezumi paused. “Do you? Well, let’s see it, then.”

Shion ignored his tone and pulled out the croissants he had packed from the bakery. Nezumi looked between them and said, “That all?”

“Well—” Shion sputtered, but then he couldn’t figure out a way to end that statement, because Nezumi had a point.

“That’s going to feed us for a single meal,” Nezumi continued. “Unless like your namesake you can subsist entirely on sunlight and water, we’ll need food for all the other meals. If you have an idea for how to get food honorably, I’m all ears, but if you’re just going to spout self-righteous bullshit at me, then keep your mouth shut.”

Shion huffed. He couldn’t reconcile this kind of trickery in his heart, but he realized that he might not be able to judge. He didn’t know Nezumi that well, and he hadn’t seen what the other teen’s life had been like up until now.

Nezumi didn’t strike him as lazy or pointlessly malicious. From the brief time Shion had known him, he got the impression that Nezumi was extremely driven, to the point of tactlessness. He didn’t seem like the type to purposely go without money, because to not have money complicated their already complex situation and impeded their progress. So then the only possibility was that Nezumi didn’t have money because for some reason he was unable to obtain it, and therefore he had to resort to underhanded tactics to provide for himself. If this was the case, Shion couldn’t preach at him if he could think of no better solution.

“Alright,” Shion relented. “If I think of something else, I’ll let you know.”

Nezumi clicked his tongue and they began their trek again, this time in silence. The woods outside of Lost Town were not particularly dense, but they were vast and their terrain uneven. Shion was glad he had the forethought to wear his sneakers, but even so, he lagged behind Nezumi, who surefooted his way across rocks and over fallen trees as gracefully as a deer. After a half hour of trundling after Nezumi and trying to keep up with his quick pace, Shion’s legs were burning again and he wanted a drink of water badly.

Shion had lived a relatively sedentary life with his mother at the bakery. Hiking or travel had never been high on his desired activity list; the only journey he ever made was through the local garden, or to and from Safu’s house. He hadn’t thought he was in poor shape, but this trek through the woods was proving him otherwise, and Shion realized with a sinking feeling that in agreeing to follow Nezumi, he had signed himself up for an indeterminable future of this.

Shion let out a low sigh. He had thought Nezumi too far ahead to hear, but the other teen’s senses were sharp, and he slowed and turned a questioning gaze on him. Shion fluttered, unsure whether he should claim it was nothing or risk asking what he’d been thinking.

“Ah…” Shion bit his lip. “Well, I was just wondering… Do you usually walk everywhere?”

Nezumi arched an eyebrow. “As opposed to?”

“A car? Or a bike? I mean, you said it’s important to get as far away from the Lab as possible as soon as possible, so I thought maybe it’d be good to get a vehicle of some sort.”

“Cars are out of the question. They’re too easily tracked. Unless, of course, I switch frequently, but that requires me to steal the cars from their owners. Would you like me to do that?” Nezumi’s mouth quirked up in a droll smirk. “You seemed to take such offense to the money situation earlier, but if you insist….”

Shion pursed his lips. “OK, but a bicycle should work?”

“Indeed, a bicycle would work—in towns and cities. But, Shion, do me a favor. Look around and tell me where we are right now.”

Shion stared grumpily at his smug face. Why couldn’t Nezumi just explain nicely for once? If he didn’t like people or talking, why did he invite Shion to travel with him in the first place?

“Exactly. The woods,” Nezumi chirped, as though Shion had played along. “Bikes perform poorly in the woods. But then I’m sure you’re going to counter with, ‘Why travel through the woods at all? We could just ride the bikes on the roads.’ ”

Nezumi’s impression of his voice was high and wheedling, a spoiled little girl’s voice. Shion closed his mouth, face darkening. Nezumi’s grey eyes sparkled, as if this was the most fun he’d ever had.

“And so I will tell you: It’s much easier to lose a pursuer when you travel off the beaten path. When you’re in places where you can’t ride them, bicycles are unwieldy, and should the Lab track us into the woods, you would have to leave it behind in order to run properly, and then you’re back at square one. Therefore, we walk. When you walk,” Nezumi said, slow, like he was talking to a small child, “you have no limitations.”

Shion’s ire turned to reflection as he absorbed Nezumi’s explanation. Multiple times now Nezumi had spoken about being tracked. Was the Lab really so dogged? It wasn’t that Shion didn’t believe him when Nezumi explained in the bakery why it was necessary he run and learn to control his powers. But at the time, Shion had only been thinking of his mother and Safu’s safety—what the decision would mean for him hadn’t fully sunk in.

It was sinking in now with terrible clarity.

According to Nezumi, the Lab monitored their phones and credit cards, had BOLOs out on their license plates, and watched their family members, waiting to head off their quarry wherever they went. If the Lab was really so well equipped, it was astounding Nezumi had survived up until this point.

Shion swallowed. _What have I gotten myself into?_ An acute sense of anxiety and pity lanced through his chest.

No wonder Nezumi never had any money; he couldn’t stop running long enough to hold down a job. No wonder he looked so wan and acted irritable and jumpy; Nezumi probably had to take his meals when he could fit them and sleep wherever he could “convince” someone to let him stay the night.

And Nezumi had pulled Shion into this desperate game of cat and mouse.

_No,_ Shion corrected himself, _I got myself into this mess._ But it surprised him now that Nezumi had offered to take him on. Shion had no skills and no control, and what’s more, it was obvious Nezumi didn’t trust him and didn’t want to like him.

_He must be desperate to bring someone like me along._ Shion’s stomach clenched. Nezumi thought he could help end the fight with the Lab, but Shion wasn’t so confident.

“But if it would please His Majesty,” Nezumi said airily a moment later, “I could try to procure a palanquin at the next town, so you might rest your weary feet.”

Shion shoved his fear and pity to the back of his mind. He couldn’t fret about this now. He needed to focus on surviving today.

“That won’t be necessary,” Shion said with dry resignation. He glanced sidelong at Nezumi’s lithe form. “Though, I’d pay to see you try to carry a palanquin by yourself.”

“Oh yeah? With what money?”

Shion broke into a smile. It startled him. This was the worst his life had ever been: He was broke, homeless, and hunted. He should be reduced to a quivering mess, and yet he still hung on to his sense of humor. It was heartening, and he liked this feeling much better than the misery he’d been mired in a moment before.

His sudden smile seemed to surprise Nezumi too, because he paused and blinked at him. Shion took advantage of the pause and dropped his backpack from his shoulders.

“Let’s have a snack,” he suggested.

“Huh? No, we don’t have time. We should keep moving.”

“It’ll only take a second. We can eat while we walk if you’re really so set on it.” Shion pulled the croissants out and handed one to Nezumi. “And here, give me that other bag. I’ll carry it in my pack.”

Nezumi gave the bag of newly purchased food over and glared at the croissant in his hand. “This is a waste of food. We should save this for tomorrow.”

“It’s not and we should eat it now,” Shion said, zipping his backpack closed again and hefting it onto his shoulders. “It’ll give us strength—mental and physical. And we need that now. Besides, croissants aren’t as good the next day. It’s better to eat them when they’re fresh.”

Nezumi didn’t look convinced, but he also didn’t argue. He took a mousy bite of the end of the croissant, looking put upon. But when Shion peeked at him a few seconds later, the croissant had already been devoured, and Nezumi was sucking a finger to savor the last of its buttery decadence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	5. Attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! Hope you're all excited for another exciting chapter of _Beyond the Horizon!_ Let's dive right into it, shall we?

Shion had never been camping. He’d never been out in the woods. The intermingling tastes and smells of leaves and an assortment of colorful flowers tantalized him. Despite the terror of the day, Shion couldn’t help but be amazed by the world that existed just beyond the edge of Lost Town.

_It’s so different_ , he thought, looking up at the branches stretching high above his head. _There’s been this world right beside me this whole time, and I never knew_.

He and Nezumi had spent hours wandering deep into the forest. “Harder to track us,” Nezumi said when Shion asked why they were heading farther away from the towns instead of straight toward them. “We’ll keep going this way for a few miles, and then head towards the next town. Send them on a wild goose chase before we continue moving forward.”

Shion clung close behind him, trying not to stomp on the back of Nezumi’s boots. “How can you tell where we’re going?” He shifted his backpack. His shoulders had begun to ache.

Nezumi snorted. “I’ve been traveling for years. I know how to navigate my way through the woods. People did it for thousands of years before technology made them ignorant and lazy.”

Shion looked at the pillars of trees surrounding them. There were no paths. No signs. Nothing to tell him which way to turn and how much farther he should go. Without a sense of direction, Shion felt as if he’d been stripped to the skin and tossed head-first into the ocean. He spiraled and flailed for something to ground him and keep him afloat—and that something happened to be Nezumi.

Despite being a complete stranger less than twenty-four hours ago, Shion felt he understood Nezumi a bit better now. He had an amazing sense of direction, and the remarkable ability to fend for himself regardless of the situation. Shion couldn’t begin to wonder what horrors would have awaited him if Nezumi hadn’t been there to save him. What would have happened to his mother? He shuddered to think of how his world could have come to a screaming halt if Nezumi hadn’t decided to come into his mother’s bakery that morning.

After wandering through the woods for a few hours, Nezumi announced they would stop and rest for a little while.

“We’re still a ways off from the next town,” he said. “We can’t afford to make a fire or a camp, but we can sit for a few minutes.” He shot Shion a blank look. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I haven’t walked this long before,” Shion replied. He dropped his backpack to the ground. The ache from his shoulders had begun to creep its way down his spine.

Nezumi rolled his eyes. “Well, get used to it. We’re not going to be camping out very often.”

Shion picked out a sturdy-looking tree and sunk down in front of it. He groaned and pressed his back against the trunk. It felt good to sit down, even for just a few moments.

“Unbelievable,” Nezumi muttered.

Shion swallowed back the spike of aggravation that bolted through him. He and Nezumi had led completely different lives. Shion had no idea what Nezumi had gone through. It was clear he held a grudge against Horizon Labs, but Shion could only imagine what else he’d gone through in his lifetime.

Nezumi was clearly no stranger to life on the streets. He stole and tricked to get by. Shion was still reeling from their deception at the store, but he was in no position to be judging anyone. When you were desperate, there was no room for morality. Shion didn’t like it, but he supposed he better get used to it. That poor old man wouldn’t be the only person he’d watch Nezumi rob.

Nezumi found a tree not too far away from where Shion sat and sank down in front of it. Shion was struck by the elegance of his movements. The sunlight peeking through the green leaves glinted off the strands of his dark hair. There wasn’t a single movement Nezumi could make that wasn’t immensely beautiful.

Shion didn’t even realize he was staring until Nezumi raised an eyebrow at him and asked, “Is there something you want?”

“W-what?” Shion drew back.

“You keep staring at me.”

“I’m not trying to!” Shion’s shoulders shot to his ears. His face burned.

Nezumi rolled his eyes. “Well, if you’re not too busy trying not to stare at me, why don’t we use this time to practice?”

Shion blinked. “Practice?”

“I said I would help you learn control,” Nezumi replied. “I intend to do that. You’re of no help to me if you can’t control what you’re doing.” He gave Shion a once-over. “You’re a sheltered kid from Lost Town who never questioned the existence of other superhumans. Your father wasn’t in the picture long enough to give you any tips, and from the sound of it, you’ve never tried to work on controlling your abilities yourself.”

Shion reeled back. “I would never break a window on purpose.”

“Not what I meant,” Nezumi said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus. All right. Think about it this way: you have the power to move things with a thought. You can break glass just by getting angry. Imagine what you could do if you had control and you actually wanted to do something. If you could move things on purpose.”

Shion folded his hands in his lap. “I’m not a violent person,” he murmured. It came out much softer than he intended. “Whenever I got upset and things…happened, it made me want nothing to do with my powers. Why would I want to use them if they’re only good for breaking things?”

“Why do you keep bringing up breaking things? Your powers aren’t only destructive,” Nezumi told him. “The same way my powers aren’t only for swindling people out of sandwiches. I can use it to talk to people, too, or make them feel less anxious. Telekinesis is the power to move things. The reason things break when you’re upset is because you have no idea how to pull back. If you learned how to control your powers, you wouldn’t break anything unless you _wanted_ to do it. You could use your powers to pick things up. You’d never have to lift a finger again.”

Shion bit his lower lip. His powers had always been a dark thing in his mind. Something he kept in the back of his thoughts and didn’t acknowledge. As long as he avoided stressors, he kept it at bay. But forgetting his powers didn’t make them go away. It didn’t prevent him from getting stressed and breaking things around him. It didn’t stop him from putting people in danger.

He couldn’t avoid stress forever. And now that Horizon Labs knew he had powers—and rather strong ones, at that—there was no chance of Shion returning to his normal way of life.

He’d been thrown head first into the ocean.

The only chance he had was learning to swim.

Shion squared his shoulders, looked Nezumi in the face, and said, “Teach me.”

The corners of Nezumi’s lips drew back in the shadow of a smile. “Then let’s begin.”

**⁂**

Shion sat cross-legged in front of three large stones. All of them were dark gray and jagged at the edges. He wondered if they had come from the same rock once upon a time. He didn’t know how heavy they were—Nezumi had picked them up and set them in front of him with strict instructions not to touch them with his physical hands.

Nezumi sat close by, but not directly in front of him. The sun had begun to descend in the sky. Shion could see the shadows beginning to form in the distance. The rest of the forest was calm and quiet, the only sound the wind fluttering through the leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird.

“Focus on the stones,” Nezumi instructed. “Picture an arm connected to your eyes, reaching out to whatever you’re looking at.”

“That’s an unsettling image,” Shion said.

" _Shush!_ ” Nezumi snapped. “Focus!”

Shion rested his hands on his lap. He pictured an arm, thin and separate from his own two, stretching out between him and the three stones. His eyes went wide, and his vision blurred gray at the edges.

“Imagining your powers as something gives you focus,” Nezumi went on. “It gives your power a form. Rather than some unknown force, it becomes something tangible you can picture and manipulate. Whenever you want to move something, think of an arm reaching out and lifting up your target.”

Shion supposed that made sense. He thought of the hand running over the tops of the stones. Each long finger dipped over the grooves and points. All three of them looked on the heavier side. He’d lifted things much heavier than three stones before, but never on purpose. He wondered if he would notice the weight when he tried.

“Now I want you to lift up the stones,” Nezumi instructed. “It doesn’t matter how high, just so long as you lift them.”

Shion pictured the hand twisting and covering all three of the stones. The fingers curled into the dirt and slipped between them. Shion nestled the stones in the palm of the invisible hand.

Lifting something without being stressed was something Shion had never attempted. His powers were a terrifying other deep inside him that he tried to avoid. A curse he’d managed to quell provided he kept his emotions in check. There hadn’t been much that made Shion angry, but when he _did_ slip, the results were disastrous. This was his chance to seize control of his powers and overcome his fear. He had the opportunity to make his powers bend to his will and cast them only when he saw fit.

Shion thought of the stones rising from the ground, nestled in the invisible net his powers had crafted.

The stones shuddered, but did not lift.

Shion narrowed his eyes. His fingers twitched on his lap.

He thought of the stones rising only an inch off the ground. _Baby steps_ , he told himself. He didn’t need to toss them into the air on the first try. He just had to lift them an inch.

The stones remained stubbornly on the ground.

Shion sunk his teeth into his lower lip. A stinging sensation danced across his cheekbones. His hands curled on his lap into loose fists. He fought down the urge to reach out with his physical hands and lift the stones into the air just so he could _feel_ how heavy they were.

How could it be so easy to throw a bed across a room without a second thought, but trying to lift three stones didn’t work?

Shion leaned forward and stared down at the stones. _Lift_ , he thought. _Lift up just an inch. That’s all I want you to do. Just an inch. Please?_

The stones shifted a bit, but not enough to be considered _lifted_.

Shion sat back and continued to stare down at the stones. He pictured the hand twisting over them and hoisting them into the air. The fingers dug into the grooves on each stone and squeezed tight.

And yet each time Shion pictured the stones rising from the ground at his command, they continued to sit on the ground before him.

After a time, Nezumi let out a frustrated sound. “All right, Shion, that’s enough for now. We’ve been here for half an hour, and nothing’s happened. Maybe we should start smaller.”

Shion could barely hear him over the thunder in his skull. He felt each invisible finger stretched out from his mind around the stones—so strong, but nothing he could control.

His eyes stung, blurred with tears from staring down at the stones too long. A muscle in his back twitched.

"Shion." Nezumi's voice cut through the fog drifting through his mind. "I said that's enough for today."

_Enough?_ It would never be enough until Shion could lift the damn things. He could move things without thinking about it. _Why can’t I just lift these stupid stones?_

"That's enough, Shion." Nezumi pushed himself off the ground and began to walk over.

Shion didn’t look over at him. He could do it. He’d done much more so many times in the past. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t lift three stones an inch off the ground just because he wanted to. He would make this work. He would master this horrible force, submit it to his will and turn it from master into a simple tool for his amusement. Only when he could finally control it would he be free from the soul-crushing fear he felt day in and day out.

He would do it.

He _would_.

"Shion, stop it," Nezumi said. "Look at me."

Shion couldn't hear him above the thunderous roaring. Pulses hammered through his body, edged with pain. A jagged blade sawed through the synapses in his brain until he couldn't see or feel anything other than the three chunks of stone.

"Look at me," Nezumi demanded. Shion caught an edge of frustration in his voice. He could see Nezumi’s shadow stretching across him now. "That’s enough for right now. It’s not working. We need to start smaller."

"I can do it—" Shion's hands trembled. He gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it away from his skin. His knees trembled, and his vision blurred. “I can _do it_ , Nezumi.”

"It’s not working." Nezumi's voice sliced through the agony. Shion was a conducting rod and the pain was lightning bolt after lightning bolt down his spine. "It’s your first time trying to use your powers. Clearly we need to start smaller. Just stop for now. We need to get moving. We’ll try later."

Shion didn’t miss the disappointment in Nezumi's voice. Shion's jaw clenched against an assaulting wave of aggravation, its pinpricks dancing across his scalp and down the tendons in his neck.

Shion opened his mouth to say he could do it if Nezumi would give him a chance—and the stones began to shudder beneath the invisible hand. The grass around him was blurred to a green smudge, and the fabric of Shion’s shirt wrinkled between his fingers. Shion fumbled for control, ordering the stones to lift just an inch off the ground so he could prove to Nezumi that he could just do it—

"Shion, for fuck's sake—" Nezumi said, his voice rising.

“ _I can do it!_ ”

All three of the stones exploded off the ground.

Nezumi ducked to the side as one of them shot toward his face.

The second glanced off the trunk of a tree in front of where Shion sat. It rolled into the forest.

The third flew across the ground and disappeared into one of the bushes with a crack of branches.

Shion gasped—and then the gray fog drifting through his mind vanished. A thick, smothering blanket of cold terror dropped around him. Shion curled into himself, tears dripping miserably down his cheeks.

_I can do it…_

_I can…_

But as the air settled and the silence of the forest fell around him, Shion found himself sitting in the shadow of yet another loss of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	6. Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Monday, everyone! You know what that means! Time for another exciting chapter of _Beyond the Horizon!_ Thank you all for your lovely comments, and we hope you enjoy it! <3

Nezumi clenched his jaw. He and Shion were making their careful way down a rocky slope toward a sleepy town. Picking the right footfalls and taking hold of the correct tree trunks and branches came second nature to Nezumi, so much so he didn’t need to think about his path as he eased down. His mind was on a far thornier problem.

When Nezumi concocted his plan to spirit Shion away and train him into a useful weapon against the Lab, he had been confident he could do it. When he promised Shion to teach him control, he was convinced he was telling the truth. He remembered the way his parents had counseled him when he was young, he had nearly fourteen years of experience with his own powers, and telepathy and telekinesis were both mental alignments. How different could they be?

Very different.

He had imagined telepathy as a cousin to telekinesis, but now he was beginning to see the flaw in his logic. Telepathy was all mental subtly. A press here, a push there. Thoughts and emotions ebbed and flowed like a river, and you had to have a feel for the depth of it and the strength of its current to know whether you could brave the waters. Once you had the scope of a person, you knew how much pressure was needed to divert their thoughts and feelings where you wanted them to go. It was fine-fingered work, so Nezumi had taken to using the visualization of a hand to keep his touches light and dexterous.

But telekinesis was a different beast. Although rooted in the mind, it was linked entirely to the physical world. Shion wasn’t dabbling in mood alteration or suggestion, he was manipulating solid matter and exerting his own will against gravity. In theory, it should be as easy to lift, throw, or move an object as it was to think about doing it, but if there were doubts or fears in one’s mind about the act, then failure would be certain and catastrophic—as Nezumi learned time and again.

Shion was a writhing pit of insecurities. He was so afraid of losing control it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Nezumi wasn’t sure how to school that out of him. He wasn’t used to teaching someone who was afraid of what they could do. Hell, who was he kidding? He wasn’t used to teaching anyone, period. Nezumi only knew how to deal with his own problems, and he held himself to a high standard—and it looked like that if he held Shion to that same standard, the other boy would crack under the pressure.

Even now Shion looked close to a breakdown. His hair stuck up in the places he’d pulled at it and was damp with sweat at his forehead and the base of his neck. After a night of poor sleep and a full day of walking, his eyes were shadowed and his legs shaky. He’d barely said a word since their failure yesterday, which Nezumi knew, even from the limited amount of time he’d known Shion, meant he was severely demoralized. Shion weaved down the hillside behind Nezumi like a drunken wraith, so awkward and out of it that Nezumi expected him to go tumbling head over heels down the slope any second.

Nezumi worried that if he did, Shion might not have the strength to pick himself back up.

_I need to change tactics._

He wasn’t sure if the problem with his first lesson was a result of his teaching skills, or if it lay with Shion—likely a combination of both—but it was obvious they couldn’t carry on this way. If this was going to work, he needed to get Shion to calm down and listen and not be so goddamn anxious all the time.

Nezumi might not know as much as he thought about teaching telekinetics control, but he did know people, and if you wanted someone to do something for you, you had to make them feel comfortable first. He couldn’t fix Shion’s mental turmoil without violating his trust, but he could remove the physical discomforts.

They made it safely down the rocky slope and headed into town. Dusk was beginning to creep over the edges of the cobbled street. The buildings around them were quaint brickwork, but squat and tilted, as though the architect had built the first house at an accidental slant and just decided to go with it for the rest of the project. Nezumi tried not to stare too much at the buildings; they gave him an unsettling sense of vertigo.

Nezumi paused at every alley and corner they came upon, peering cautiously around for signs of danger. But there were none. Townsfolk passed by, arm in arm, heading towards home or dinner at one of the small restaurants. When the sun was almost fully down, the lamps outside the shop fronts lit automatically, bathing the street in a warm amber glow. Nezumi was struck by the town’s beauty and how carefree its people were. The place was downright peaceful.

It made his insides squirm.

He trudged to the garden of a nearby house, checked to make sure no one was about, then tore a handful of supple leaves from the flowerbed. The envious swirl in his gut dissipated at the sight of the tattered plants. 

Shion was staring at the flowerbed when Nezumi turned. “That was mean,” he said softly.

Nezumi scowled. Of course when Shion finally talked to him after hours of silent hiking, it’s to call him out for his act of arbitrary malice.

“I need these,” Nezumi snapped and crammed the leaves into his jacket pocket for later. And he _did_ need them; ruining someone’s immaculate flower bed was just added catharsis.

He pushed by Shion and kept going. After some ambling around, Nezumi finally located what he wanted.

Hotel Vista was small and unassuming, but the lobby looked clean and there was a fire burning on the brick hearth in the sitting area that lent the space a homey charm.

“We’re staying here?” Shion’s voice was sharp with hope.

Nezumi arched an eyebrow at him, secretly pleased by the fact that his plan was already showing results. “Don’t get used to it. Like I said before, we’ll have to move around a lot, and most nights we’ll be roughing it. But since it’s your first time on the run, I’ll spring for the last bed you’ll sleep in for a while.”

Shion’s tentative excitement dulled at that, but didn’t completely evaporate. Nezumi found that he preferred this Shion; he was easier to look at when he wasn’t as energetic. His pleasure at Shion’s favorable reaction faded, though, when he approached the front desk to perform his Jedi Mind Trick on the staff member on duty.

“Hello,” the woman chirped with practiced pep. Her name tag said, SUE. “Reservation?”

“No, I’m afraid not. We just want a room for the night. Is there anything available?”

A room. Nezumi almost cringed as the words left his mouth. It had to be one room, because if he and Shion were separated and they were attacked, they’d be easy pickings. But the thought of sharing an enclosed space with Shion…. He already felt a headache coming on.

The woman pecked at her computer keyboard. Her glasses kept sliding down the bridge of her freckled nose as she studied the screen, and she paused a few times to shove them back into place. “We do have a room open tonight. It’s a queen. Will that work for you?”

“No doubles?”

The woman smiled before the question even made it out of his mouth, so he knew she had already been queuing up the answer. “No, sir. Just the queen.”

Nezumi masked his annoyance with a smile to mirror the woman’s. _How is there only a queen room available? Who the hell is renting all the rooms in this no-name town?_

He glanced back at Shion, only to find that he wasn’t behind him. A panicked look around the lobby found the airhead planted in a chair in front of the fireplace. _Like a moth to the flame of comfort_ , Nezumi thought bitterly. And what did that make him? Mr. Moneybags? Shion just abandoned him up here to pay for everything like he was some lowly footman.

Nezumi turned back to SUE. “The queen is fine, thanks. Is cash okay?”

Being the beleaguered customer service employee she was, SUE’s mind resisted his attempts at suggestion, and Nezumi had to exert a little more of a push to get her to believe the leaves he handed her were money. Even as she accepted them, she continued to give him that combination of forced smile and suspicious eyes. He felt tired and irritable when the whole exchange was over.

Shion had slumped full-body into the chair cushions, his eyes closed and head lolled against the back of the seat. Nezumi glared at his serene expression. He wondered whether Shion might already be asleep, and if he was, whether it might be safe enough to leave him to spend the night in the lobby. That would solve the sleeping arrangements at least.

The burn of the fire pressed against the small of Nezumi’s back, tracing the outline of the scar there. He grit his teeth and nudged Shion’s sneaker with the tip of his boot to wake him. When Nezumi waggled the room key at him, Shion’s mouth slanted in disapproval, but he didn’t say anything. He was catching on quickly; Nezumi might make a proper degenerate out of him yet.

Shion followed him up to room 262 and set his backpack down on the single desk inside before flopping facedown onto the bed’s mattress. Nezumi waited for him to register the solitary bed, but Shion didn’t move and Nezumi began to suspect he had fallen dead asleep. He clicked his tongue and went into the bathroom for a quick shower.

The water was gloriously warm, and the quick shower turned into fifteen minutes, ten of which were spent merely standing under the flow and pretending nothing existed outside of that moment. But eventually he came out and had to put his dirty clothes back on.

Shion was perched uncertainly on the edge of the bed when Nezumi stepped out of the bathroom. 

Nezumi crossed his arms. “Yes?”

Shion dodged his eyes, and said, color rising in his cheeks, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Oh really? Great, I appreciate that.”

Shion blinked at him as Nezumi crossed to the bed. What did he expect? Some kind of back and forth “oh, no, you take the bed, I insist” bullshit? Shion had been sleeping safe and sound in a comfy bed for the last sixteen years, so he could deal with the floor now. It was Nezumi’s turn to experience some comfort.

“You should take a shower,” Nezumi said, falling onto the mattress and snatching a pillow to his chest. “There’s only one bed, but they’ve graciously provided two towels.”

Shion rose and disappeared into the bathroom. Nezumi stared at the door as the rush of water started up on the other side, and his vindictiveness receded. He was supposed to mitigate Shion’s neuroticism around his power by making him feel at ease first, and then they could approach the lessons from a more stable angle. Buying a hotel room and throwing Shion on the floor was the opposite of what he planned, but Nezumi kept forgetting not to be a bastard. Something about Shion’s fluffy hair and wide, hopeful eyes turned Nezumi petulant and unreasonable.

But it felt a little like kicking a puppy after the fact.

Nezumi screwed his mouth to the side and rose from the bed. He locked the door of the room. It was an automatic action, in the same way that he never sat with his back to a door and always checked for the most viable escape route when he entered a room. Survival was second nature.

Compassion was not.

So when Nezumi pulled the extra threadbare blanket out of the closet and set it on the floor, he felt a prickle of unease, which his brain quickly translated into the more familiar annoyance. He took the fluffier of the two pillows from the bed and dropped it at the head of the blanket, then settled himself on the floor. It wasn’t terrible. The foot of the bed had a rug, and it was a lot more cushiony than many of the park benches and dirt-packed forest floors he’d slept on in the past.

Nezumi didn’t move when he heard the bathroom door open. He caught a whiff of vanilla as the steam from the shower carried the scent of hotel shampoo and soap into the air.

It was quiet for a moment, then Shion asked, “You aren’t sleeping on the bed?”

“No,” Nezumi muttered into his pillow. “The queen’s all yours, Your Majesty.”

Shion’s voice tightened. “Don’t call me that. I said I’d sleep on the floor, so I will. You sleep on the bed.”

“I prefer sleeping on the ground. Beds feel too soft for me now.” Nezumi yanked his thin blanket over his head. “Just go to sleep.”

Another silent pause. Then he heard rustling from above him as Shion got into bed. Nezumi sighed through his nose. If it improved Shion’s mood and they could finally make some headway in Shion’s training, this was all worth it.

Something brushed his leg, followed by a muted _thump_. Nezumi threw his blanket off his head and sat up. Shion had pulled the comforter and remaining pillow off the bed and was arranging them on the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” Nezumi demanded.

“You sleep on the bed,” Shion grumbled like a sullen, stubborn child. He slapped his pillow down and fluffed the comforter. “I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s the least I can do after everything that’s happened.”

“The least you can do is listen to me for once. Just sleep in the bed like I told you.”

 _For the love of_ God _are we really arguing about this?_ Nezumi was _this close_ to throttling him.

“No, it’s not fair!” Shion snapped. “You paid for it, you should sleep there.”

“Seriously, Shion—”

“I mean it, Nezumi.”

And then, of all the audacious things, Shion grabbed Nezumi’s pillow and chucked it. It hit the headboard with an airy _whump_ and plopped onto the middle of the mattress.

Nezumi lost it.

“For fuck’s sake, _fine_!” He shoved off his covers. “Let’s both sleep in the goddamn bed.”

“Wha- Wait,” Shion spluttered, but Nezumi did not wait.

Nezumi yanked Shion’s pillow out from under his head, swept both their blankets into his arms, and spilled them onto the mattress. He made the bed with all the quickness and fury of a tornado.

“Nezumi…”

He whirled on Shion. “Get in the bed, before I deck you and shove your unconscious body onto it myself.”

Shion gulped and meekly climbed into the bed and beneath the covers. Nezumi followed. He flipped the lightswitch off and lay on his side facing the door, glaring at the faint strip of light leaking into the room from the hallway.

“This better be the best fucking sleep of my life,” Nezumi hissed into the dark.

Shion shifted awkwardly beside him. Nezumi could feel his presence like an insidious shadow. He hated to have his back to someone else, but it was either have Shion behind him, or the door, and Shion was the lesser threat.

“You better not snore. Or kick me in the middle of the night.”

“...I don’t snore, and I don’t think I’m going to kick you, but it’s not like I can control what I do when I’m asleep.”

“Great,” Nezumi scoffed, “yet another thing you can’t control.”

Nezumi regretted the words immediately. Not just because they were callous and cruel, but because he knew they were triggering.

The atmosphere shifted. The well of his telepathic power buzzed a warning as it sensed the turmoil bubble up from Shion’s mind and bleed through its defenses. He could taste the brewing explosion like the sickly sweet tang of iron on his tongue.

Nezumi rolled out of the bed and flattened himself to the floor. Just in time. The bed shook beside him, and the lamp on the nightstand rattled so fast and hard he expected the bulb to shatter. He covered his head in case it did. A hybrid growl of grief and fury rumbled in Shion’s throat.

And then the bed stopped shaking. The lamp quieted on the nightstand. Nezumi peeked up at it, and saw that the shade still shivered, as though quaking from the harrowing experience. Shion appeared above him at the lip of the bed, and Nezumi flinched instinctively. He hated himself for it the next second, but if Shion saw, he paid him no mind.

Shion escaped off the bed and slammed the bathroom door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	7. Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! The boys have had a hell of a time trying to communicate with each other. Will they find a way around it? Let's find out! <3

Shion sat on the closed toilet lid with his head in his hands. His elbows dug into his knees; it stung, but the pain was grounding.

He hadn’t bothered turning on the light switch, and so he sat in complete darkness. The roaring in his skull had already softened to a gentle thrumming, but even that was far louder than Shion preferred.

He could still taste the sting of rage on the tip of his tongue. Nezumi’s cold, harsh words zipped around his head like a furious bee.

“ _Great. Yet another thing you can’t control_.”

 _I know_. Shion pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids until he saw red and blue spots. _Don’t you think I know already?_

Shion couldn’t understand Nezumi. He’d come breezing in out of nowhere, and in a matter of moments, Shion’s entire world had come crashing down. Shion knew he couldn’t blame it all on Nezumi. Horizon Lab’s agents had come to question his mother because of what his father could do. Nezumi had nothing to do with that. If anything, Shion owed Nezumi a debt. If he hadn’t come along and turned the agents away, there was no telling what horrors he would have endured.

But Nezumi was...difficult to get along with. He spoke harshly and had no patience. He pushed and pushed until Shion went tumbling over the edge. He said he would teach Shion to control his powers, but he expected immediate perfection.

Shion couldn’t keep up with him.

He _wanted_ to do well.

He _did_.

But the way Nezumi needled him, the way he spoke as if Shion was an idiot, rubbed him the wrong way.

Shion scrubbed the back of his hands against his eyes. Tears had started to prick along the edges. If he started now, he wasn’t certain he’d be able to stop.

 _Don’t cry_ , Shion told himself. He sniffled and drew a few sheets of toilet paper from the roll. He dabbed at his eyes and then blew his nose. _Just breathe_.

Shion tossed the wad of toilet paper into the nearby trash can. He took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. Safu had researched meditation when Shion’s mother expressed concern over his elevated stress levels. She’d experimented with him―Safu had bought books, taught him to close his eyes and let go of the bad thoughts.

Shion’s fingers drifted to his right arm. He nudged the sleeve of his cardigan up and touched the bit of braided string coiled around his wrist. Blue and purple strands twisted together in an elegant braid. Hanging from the bracelet were five little silver baubles. Even plunged in darkness, Shion knew the distinct shape of each of them. A book, an aster, a cupcake, a butterfly, and a heart.

Shion loved each and every one of his charms. His mother had made the bracelet for him when he was young, and with it, she’d given him his first two charms. The aster had, of course, come from his name, while the heart was meant to be an expression of the bond he shared with his mother. Shion had loved them immediately. The simplicity of the shapes mixed with the depth of their meaning had kept him grounded in his darkest moments.

Safu had given him his third charm to celebrate his twelfth birthday. “I couldn’t find a cookbook specifically,” she said, “but a book works just as well!”

The cupcake had come from his mother for his fourteenth birthday, to celebrate his success at the bakery. Karan couldn’t afford to hire another worker, and so Shion had offered his assistance. He’d practiced baking techniques on his own time, woken early to give his mother a hand, and even crafted a few new flavors to sell in the shop. Karan kissed his cheek, thanked him, and gave him his fourth charm so he would always remember his successes before considering his failures.

His fifth and most recent charm―the butterfly―had been a gift to himself, to represent rebirth. A transformation from something small into something beautiful and strong. _Someday_ , Shion told himself, stringing the charm to his bracelet and watching it glimmer alongside the others, _I won’t be afraid of what I can do. Someday I’ll be able to control my powers. Someday_.

That day, unfortunately, had not come yet.

Shion stood up from the toilet lid. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The shower was still damp, the wisps of steam leaving fog on the mirror.

 _I need to survive this_ , Shion told himself. The day to confront what he could do might have come sooner than anticipated, but that didn’t mean Shion couldn’t conquer it.

Horizon Labs had come after Shion’s father, and instead, they’d discovered him. Now that they knew about him, Shion knew another confrontation might be possible. Nezumi knew how to avoid them, but Shion wasn’t foolish enough to think he and Nezumi would always be one step ahead.

 _But if we’re going to survive this_ , Shion thought, _we need to find some way to communicate. We can’t keep going like this_.

In order to survive, he and Nezumi needed to learn how to work together.

**⁂**

Nezumi was still awake when Shion finally emerged from the bathroom.

After what had happened―after the way Nezumi had thrown himself to the ground with his arms over his head―Shion didn’t expect Nezumi to be relaxed. Even so, it surprised him when he opened the bathroom door and found Nezumi sitting upright on the bed staring back at him.

The lamp cast a dim light around the small hotel room. The shadows blended against the sharp curves of Nezumi’s cheekbones, the light turning his silver eyes into blades. Nezumi was tense, his spine straight and his lips drawn in a thin line.

Shion paused on the threshold. He made sure both of his hands were visible. He thought it might make Nezumi feel more at ease.

“I’m sorry,” Shion said, and then added, “About almost destroying the lamp.”

Nezumi’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t move.

Shion dared a step forward. When Nezumi still didn’t move, Shion took another step.

“I’m OK now,” Shion went on. “I calmed down. I just… What you said, it―It wasn’t fair. You need to understand that I’m trying. I’m _trying_ , Nezumi.”

Nezumi straightened a bit as Shion approached the bed. He didn’t look frightened, but Shion could tell he wasn’t relaxed. He didn’t blame him. Both of them were virtual strangers, despite the time they’d been forced together, and Shion hadn’t done much to prove to Nezumi that he was safe.

And while Shion wasn’t completely at fault for everything that had gone wrong, he couldn’t erase his part in it.

Sometimes it was better to reach out first.

Shion took another step toward the bed and said, “I want you to teach me how to control myself. I want to learn, Nezumi. But the way we’re approaching things right now isn’t working. This is a stressful situation for both of us. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I’m not good at pulling it back when I get stressed out. I know that’s terrifying.

“But I promise I’m going to try. I’m going to do everything I can to listen to you and get a handle on things. But,” Shion said, “you need to promise me something, OK?”

Nezumi made a sound in the back of his throat.

Shion tried not to let it bother him too much. “You need to promise me that you’ll try to be a bit more patient.”

Shion had finally reached the edge of the bed. Nezumi sat looking back at him. His hair spilled over his shoulders in dark, damp strands. He looked different with his hair down. Softer. He looked dangerous still, but Shion couldn’t help the pang of sympathy that shot through him.

 _It must be so hard_ , Shion thought, _living your whole life on the run_. He couldn’t blame Nezumi for his caution. When he’d lived his whole life being hunted down, it really was no wonder Nezumi didn’t trust anyone.

Shion sat on the edge of the bed. Nezumi slid back a bit, but Shion suspected it was just to give him a bit of space.

 _Be the first one to reach out_. Shion lifted his arm and drew his sleeve back. The charms on his bracelet clinked together as they settled. “My mom made this for me,” he said. “It’s supposed to be a way to ground myself. It’s a little different, so I usually don’t show it to people. I used to get teased in school for wearing it. But if we’re going to be working together, I want you to know a little more about me.”

Nezumi blinked at him. “You’re so weird,” he said after a moment, but there was no hostility behind his words.

Shion’s lips quirked up at the corners. “Maybe a bit.” He put his sleeve down and folded his hands on his lap.

The tension in Nezumi’s shoulders released. He leaned back against the headboard. There was still a good amount of space between them, but Shion didn’t feel the same aura of fear and frustration that had suffocated him before. Their petty squabbling felt like something from the distant past. It was almost comical, in a way.

 _We were so upset over a bed_ , Shion thought, even though he knew it wasn’t only about that.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Nezumi said, his voice jolting through Shion like lightning. “I’m sorry.”

Shion hadn’t been expecting an apology. Nezumi didn’t seem capable of it. Shion had seen him pretend with the old man and the woman at the front desk, but he didn’t think Nezumi was pretending now. Nezumi wasn’t reaching into his mind and forcing Shion’s perception of reality to shift.

“I forgive you,” Shion said. “Just…can you promise me you’ll try to stop getting so upset?”

Nezumi stared at him.

“I’ll try and see things from your perspective,” Shion went on. “I know life’s been difficult for you, Nezumi. I know this situation isn’t ideal. I’ll do whatever I can to make it easier, I’ll do my best to understand where you’re coming from, and I’ll do what I can to stop stressing you out so much. In exchange, can you try to understand where I’m coming from? Can you please try and understand that this is hard for me, too?”

Nezumi peered into his face and didn’t say anything. Shion stared back into the thunderstorm pigment of his irises. Nezumi was so unlike anyone Shion had ever met. He was beautiful and terrifying, like a hurricane rolling through the streets.

After a few moments, Nezumi said, “This isn’t the most ideal situation. You’re right. I need you to help me take down the Lab, Shion. I can’t promise I’m not going to get frustrated with you again. But I’ll…change my approach.”

Shion nodded. It wasn’t the world’s greatest apology, but it was better than he’d anticipated.

“Oh!” he said a second later. “That reminds me. If we’re going to be traveling together, maybe we can get to know each other a bit more. I told you about my charm bracelet. So, now it’s your turn.”

Nezumi narrowed his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

Shion couldn’t help himself. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	8. Grazed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another Monday, lovelies! Here we are with another chapter! We're both so grateful for all of your wonderful comments, and we hope that you continue to enjoy this fic as it updates! <3

When Shion woke the next morning, only a trickle of early sunlight had managed to sneak through the blinds. It couldn’t have been more than a half hour after dawn, and yet the spot next to him was empty. The blankets, though, were still warm when Shion laid a hand on them. He could hear clinking and water running in the bathroom, so he assumed Nezumi was already readying himself for the morning—for leaving this warm, comfy place and heading back into the wilderness.

Shion sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He had slept poorly. The bed was perfect: firm mattress and clean, soft sheets. But every time it sucked him into sleep, Nezumi jarred him awake.

Nezumi was restless, even at rest. He woke at every creak and stiffened at every rattle. Shion blearily remembered waking at quarter past two to see Nezumi sitting up in bed, staring at the door. There were voices on the other side, but even half awake, Shion could tell it was nothing but a couple, or maybe two friends, returning to their room after a late night. Nezumi, though, watched the darkness like he expected the shadows to coalesce into monsters.

It was obvious that Nezumi’s nighttime vigil was not reserved for this hotel; stillness and attention were wound into him like fine-springed clockwork. He must always be such a light sleeper and nervous sentry. Shion hadn’t noticed the night before because they hadn’t shared a space so close. On the dirt-packed forest floor, Shion couldn’t feel the jounce as Nezumi hurtled out of sleep, but every movement carried on a mattress.

So he learned one thing about Nezumi, inadvertently: He was a light and restless sleeper. _Guess that’s worth something,_ Shion thought as he rubbed his shin where Nezumi had kicked it during the night. The skin was raised, but only just beginning to color.

Shion dragged his body off the side of the bed and stumbled to his feet. _Coffee_ , his groggy mind pleaded, and he gravitated toward the small machine on the desk. It was one that used pods, which mildly offended Shion’s tastes, but his desperation to feel alert lowered his standards. He inserted a French Vanilla pod and crossed the room to open the shades.

His coffee was not done when he walked back. In fact, the machine sat still and silent. Shion frowned and poked the power button. When that didn’t work, he bent over to check whether it was plugged in. It was, but in spite of this, the machine refused to produce the fragrant, caffeinated beverage his brain desired.

“Come on...” Shion grumbled. He sighed loudly, but the noise of the hairdryer starting up in the bathroom drowned it out.

He probed the coffee machine—pushing buttons, removing and inserting the pod, blowing into the receptacle—as he considered whether or not it was pathetic to go down to the lobby to ask if they provided coffee. His stomach gave a saddened gurgle, and Shion decided it was worth the trip if it meant he could secure both food and beverages.

Nezumi stepped out of the bathroom. His hair had been blown out straight and hung like rivulets of dark ink over his shoulders. Shion had a few seconds to admire how much softer and more elegant Nezumi’s face looked when his hair was loose before Nezumi swept his hair up to tie it back.

“Coffee?” Nezumi asked, his voice betraying a note of hopefulness.

“The machine is broken.”

The corners of Nezumi’s mouth tugged down, but he didn’t say anything more.

“I’m going to go down to the lobby and see if we can get some from them.”

Nezumi finished tying his hair up. He was once again a man of sharp angles—still beautiful, but with a cold, untouchable air, like a statue cordoned off in a museum. Shion experienced a twinge of lament at the transformation. He knew that Nezumi was the same person whether his hair was down or not, but he felt somehow that the Nezumi he saw last night and a moment before was one he had a chance of being friends with.

Nezumi arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re going out like that?”

Shion looked down at his cardigan and jeans. The sweater and jeans he had started this journey in were now sweat-stained and mud-flecked, so he changed into this clean outfit to sleep in. He had only brought two spare sets of clothes; if this one was dirtied or damaged, he’d only have one more set to wear. Shion hoped they might be able to find a place to wash their clothes soon, but he didn’t bother bringing the topic up now. 

With the amount of judgement on Nezumi’s face, Shion expected his cardigan to be torn or sullied, but he couldn’t find anything amiss with it or his jeans. “Well… Yeah,” Shion said at last with some confusion.

“What about your hair?”

“What about it?”

Shion raised a hand to his head. His hair felt a bit spiky on top, and he guessed it was messy where he had slept on it while it was still damp. Shion finger-combed the strands for a few seconds, trying to tame his unruly mop into something presentable without the luxury of a mirror.

“Better?” he asked.

Nezumi’s face twisted in a combination of amusement and disgust. He shook his head. “What are you doing? Just get over here.”

Shion obeyed Nezumi’s beckons and stood in the bathroom entrance. He saw himself in the mirror over the sink. “Ah,” he said, voice as flat as the hair on the side of his head. His finger combing had done nothing but muss it into further disarray. Shion fixed what he could with the use of the mirror and water. When he had finished, he approached the door.

“Wait.”

Shion paused in the midst of releasing the lock and turned. Nezumi hovered in the center of the room. He looked…uncertain. Nezumi’s expression wasn’t much different from his usual suspicious squinting, but Shion recognized something in his posture that translated into unease. An accomplished burst of energy filled Shion’s chest at being familiar enough with Nezumi to recognize the nuances of his emotions.

Nezumi frowned at him, likely because a small smile started to tug on Shion’s lips, seemingly for no reason. “I don’t know if I trust you by yourself.”

The warmth in Shion’s chest extinguished. A moment later, he realized that Nezumi didn’t mean he didn’t trust him not to explode, but rather that he didn’t like the idea that they’d be separated. But even that realization was enough to turn Shion cold. It was a reminder that they were still hunted, no matter how far away the danger seemed.

The smile forming on Shion’s face dissipated.

“I’ll be fine,” he said in response to all the insinuations Nezumi could be making. “I’ll be quick. Do you want a coffee too?”

Nezumi crossed his arms and pressed his lips into a hard line. His eyes remained locked on Shion’s for a long moment. The grey in their depths glittered like moonlight on a restive lake surface.

Finally, Nezumi clicked his tongue. “Make sure you’re quick,” he relented. “Don’t sit around chatting with anyone. And, no, I don’t need coffee.”

“You sound like you do.” Nezumi grunted. Shion tilted his head at him. “You could come, too, if you’re worried.”

“It should be fine. We should be OK in this town.” Nezumi turned his face away as he said this, though. “And if we’re not, it’s probably best I’m not seen. The Lab’s been chasing me longer and,” a note of smug amusement slipped into his voice as he glanced over at Shion, “my face is more memorable than yours. You’re safer on your own.”

Shion felt he should be offended, but he really wasn’t. His looks _were_ homely compared to Nezumi’s. Shion gnawed his lip, but he unlocked the door and stepped into the hall. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Shion headed down the stairs, rather than taking the elevator. The building only had three floors in addition to the lobby, but he supposed three was enough to warrant an elevator. Shion preferred the stairs, however, whenever the hike was feasible. He liked to do things himself, to use his body to complete work rather than falling back on what was easiest. His mother said he got this compulsion from her side of the family. They were doers. It was part of what drew them to baking: the work never ended, and there was no artificial substitute for bread and sweets crafted with loving care by human hands.

The lobby was quiet. The fire had faded on the hearth and was nothing but sleepy black embers now. The sun had risen enough that the cool amber glow spilled over the wooden floor through the glass of the lobby entrance. Like the night before, a single female attendant manned the front desk, though this was a different, younger woman.

“Hello,” Shion greeted as he approached her.

The woman looked up from her computer. Her eyes were glazed from staring at the glowing screen and she had dark circles beneath them that spoke to chronic sleep issues. With only four or so hours in his sleep bank that morning, Shion felt an immediate kinship with her.

He offered the attendant a light smile. “Um, my coffee maker seems to be broken, so I was wondering if there was anywhere down here to get coffee?”

The woman squinted at him, as if he was too bright a thing to behold at this ungodly hour. “Yeah, we have a…container? Dispenser?” She paused and shot him a guilty half-smile. “Whatever you call the thing that holds the coffee. My brain is fried this morning. Anyway, it’s over there.”

The woman pointed to a corner of the lobby half obscured by a trellis of plants. Shion had passed right by it and hadn’t even realized.

“Oh, thanks,” Shion laughed.

“No problem. There’s also a few granola bars, if you’re interested. Breakfast opens in,” she glanced down at her computer screen, “twenty minutes, but it’s not the most imaginative thing, so….” She shrugged.

Shion wasn’t sure what that meant, but he thanked her again and moved toward the coffee area. The coffee was only warm, and they had no milk or cream to put in it, but Shion refused to let these failings discourage him. He added three sugars to mask the taste of burnt beans and tried to feel grateful as he took a few sips from his takeaway cup.

Shion picked through the granola bars and settled on chocolate chip and peanut butter flavored ones for himself. And for Nezumi… He guessed the same. If Nezumi didn’t like them, Shion would happily eat the surplus. Although he couldn’t imagine Nezumi wasting food, even if he hated it.

Shion crammed the bars into his pockets and turned for the stairs.

The lobby door opened and Shion glanced instinctively toward the noise. Two men entered, both clean-cut and dressed in dark suits. They looked wildly out of place amidst the soft country vibe of the lobby.

Shion’s stomach swooped. He shifted so he would be obscured by the trellis, but could still see the men through the gaps between the potted plants. He felt silly and paranoid the next moment, but he had spent too many hours with Nezumi to not practice caution when faced with sober-suited strangers.

One of the men had a hawkish severity to his face, and the languid posture of a predator. The other man was bald and unassuming, but thickset and uncomfortably tall. He towered like a mountain over the hawkish man and absentmindedly cracked his finger knuckles with his thumbs as they sauntered together to the front desk.

“Can I help you?” the front desk attendant asked. Shion couldn’t see her face past the newcomers’ bulk, but he could hear the guarded tone in her voice, and he knew she must be sizing them up as potential troublemakers.

Shion swallowed his slow-building fear and tried to reason with himself. _Don’t judge a book by its cover. They look scary, but they’re probably just guests. Just wait it out._

Hawk leaned his elbow on the desk and bared his teeth in a neat, perfectly white grin. “Yes, ma’am, I hope so. Me and my friend,” he gestured to the large man beside him, “are trying to track down our sons. Some townsfolk said they saw them headed this way.”

“...I see,” intoned the desk attendant.

Hawk was not deterred by her obvious distrust. “The one’s dark-haired, a real pretty boy—you’d remember a face like his. Likes leather jackets and scowling. Goes by the name Nezumi?” His smile ratcheted up a few degrees, revealing his sharp canines. “He’s mine.”

Shion’s stomach dropped. Sweat had begun to gather on his back, but his body felt frozen solid. He hardly dared to breathe, knowing who and what was standing just a few feet from him.

Hawk pushed back off the counter and jabbed a thumb at his alleged friend. “The other’s his kid. A kinda mousy-looking boy with brown hair. Real skinny. Eh…” He frowned and turned to the other man. “Sean, was it?”

“Shion,” corrected Mountain.

Shion’s heart rabbited. The coffee in his hand sloshed gently against the sides of the thin paper cup, but he was too terrified to move. The Lab had figured out he and Nezumi were traveling together, and they had already tracked them down. Shion’s head pounded as his panic mounted. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to lessen his anxiety by removing the visual stimuli.

 _I will not lose control. Not now. Relax and_ breathe. _You can do this._ He chanted these thoughts over and over again, scrambling to calm his shivering lungs.

“He’s normally a good kid, but he’s fallen in with the wrong sort,” Mountain said without much emotion.

Hawk snorted. “I’ll say. Anyway,” he turned his snarling grin back on the woman at the desk, “think you could point us in the right direction?”

Shion peeked one eye open. With Hawk now stepped away from the desk, he could see a sliver of the woman’s face. Would she tell the men? What would they do if she refused?

“There’s no one under those names here,” the attendant said. Her voice was strong, despite her obvious intimidation.

“You sure?” asked Hawk. “You didn’t even look in your computer.”

The woman pushed a smile onto her face. “It’s a small hotel. I remember who checks in.”

“Aw, well…” Hawk made a show of frowning in confusion and looking worriedly at Mountain. “They might have used different names. Nezumi and I had a… A _disagreement_ , you see, so he packed up and left. But his mama’s worried sick, so I’ve got to bring him home.” Hawk pouted at her. “Come on, ma’am, can’t you help us? You’ve seen boys like that here, haven’t you? Just let us know that, at least.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but there are confidentiality laws protecting our guests. I can’t confirm whether your sons are here or not. Maybe you could try calling them?” The attendant turned her smile on Mountain, but it faltered in the face of such a stark man. She cleared her throat and repeated, “Sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“I see,” sighed Hawk. He exchanged another look with Mountain.

The large man slipped a yellow and black gun from his suit’s inside pocket and fired before the young woman had a chance to blink. Two thin, glimmering wires shot out of the muzzle and embedded themselves into her chest. Shion gasped, but the choked noise from the woman, and the clatter she made as she spasmed and fell from her chair, masked the sound of his shock. Mountain grunted, a satisfied smirk curling his lips.

Shion’s skin crawled.

“Nice one,” Hawk chuckled. He hopped over the front desk and began rummaging around.

Mountain returned the TASER gun to his inside pocket and fiddled with something at the side of his head. Some kind of earpiece, Shion guessed, though he was too far to see it clearly.

Hawk shot his partner a look. “Leave that alone. Unless you want what little brain you have melted.”

The large man stopped messing with his earpiece and scowled. He mumbled something, and from the irritated expression on his face, Shion imagined it involved curse words.

“Jump on the computer and get searching,” Hawk barked at Mountain. “Check ‘Eve.’ The kid uses that alias sometimes when he has to give a name.”

Mountain moved around the front desk. “I don’t see anything familiar,” he huffed after a few minutes of tapping and clicking. “I think we’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“Fan _-fucking-_ tastic.” Hawk slammed a drawer. “I can’t wait to act like a fucking Jehovah’s Witness. Come on.” He skulked toward the elevator.

Shion’s heart pressed into the back of his throat as he watched the men file into the elevator. His joints unlocked only once the door closed on the two.

He abandoned the coffee on the counter and rushed for the stairs. Shion took them by twos, ignoring the burn in his legs and his ragged breathing. He thanked the powers that be that he and Nezumi had a room on the second floor, and not the first. They had a chance, if only he could get there fast enough.

Shion burst onto the second floor landing and sprinted down the hall, grateful for the faded green carpet’s help in muffling his footfalls. At 262, he fumbled in his pockets for a few seconds before he realized he had forgotten to take a key.

Shion risked three hard, sharp raps on the door. “Nezumi!” he whisper-yelled.

The door swung open instantly and Shion was yanked into the room. The door closed quickly, but silently, behind him.

“Nezumi,” Shion gasped through the terror and exhaustion, trying and failing to get the rest of the words out.

Nezumi’s eyes flashed. “They’re here,” he said, correctly interpreting Shion’s fluster, and then, “Did anyone see you?”

Shion shook his head even as he said, “The woman at the desk, but she’s unconscious. Tasered, I think. There’s two of them; they’re checking doors. We have to go.”

Nezumi snatched Shion’s backpack and pulled it over his shoulders. He forced the sticky window as wide open as it would go and twisted through the gap and onto the fire escape. The actions had the smooth assurance of habit, and Shion struggled to execute them with as much athleticism. Fortunately, he managed to slip out of the window with minimal difficulty.

Nezumi warned him to stay close and navigated down the stairway. He peered around the back alley for lookouts or traps. The alley was bare apart from dumpsters and a few pieces of refuse rolling around the asphalt in the wind, but Shion trusted Nezumi to know what to look for.

Nezumi gestured that they were going to make a run for the other side of the street. Shion swallowed and nodded. Nezumi gave the signal and they sprinted out of the alley and into the sparkling sunlight of the main street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	9. Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! I hope you're all doing well. This past week has been just a teeny bit hectic, so I can safely say that I'm glad it's the beginning of a new week! And with a new week comes a brand new chapter of the fic! We hope you enjoy it! <3

“Nezumi,” Shion gasped, and even though he was sprinting right on Nezumi’s heels, he sounded a million miles away. “What—what are we going to do?”

“Keep up,” Nezumi snapped back. He and Shion were sprinting down the sidewalk, and Nezumi didn’t care if they looked suspicious about it. He knew how he and Shion must have looked. Two sixteen-year-olds, no adult in sight, clearly in distress. Hardly a penny between the two of them aside from the pocketful of leaves and stones Nezumi could convince most people were coins and dollar bills.

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit_. Nezumi focused on the street ahead of him. There were a few people on the sidewalks, even in the early morning, but no other men and women in black suits. Nezumi didn’t let that calm him. As bad as things were now—he’d underestimated how much of a lead he and Shion had on the Lab—they would be so much worse if they got cornered. Nezumi’s only hope was that he and Shion had put enough distance between themselves and the town before someone called the police.

Nezumi dared a glance over his shoulder. Down the street, nestled between two empty trash bins, was a dark red vehicle. It looked cramped in the back, and Nezumi’s heart clenched at the sight of it.

Nezumi recognized the taste of fear. He had been cornered by two of Horizon Lab’s agents only once in his lifetime. After he twisted their unexpecting minds and turned them away with a desperate thought, Nezumi vowed it would be the _only_ time. Years on the run had transformed him from a trembling child into a master manipulator. He had avoided run-ins with the Lab before, and he would avoid them again.

All he needed to do was keep running.

That was why he’d lived as long as he had. If he kept running, he could stay two steps ahead. The black uniforms and that stupid orange logo made their agents stick out like sore thumbs. Most of them were arrogant and easy to evade. The issue Nezumi had with them wasn’t so much the quality of the agents, but the quantity. Nezumi had seen many different agents over the years. The Lab never seemed to run out of new recruits, and it was only a matter of time before they uncovered a particularly _good_ one.

But Nezumi had been a little boy when he first ran from them. Two agents had cornered him in his bedroom, attempting to coax him out from under the bed and into the transport van they’d failed to corral his parents into. Nezumi had curled in on himself, tears dripping down his cheeks, and thought “ _go away, go away, go away_ ” until the two agents stepped back, their eyes vacant, and returned to their cars without a glance back.

Nezumi had crept into the woods, in the dead of night, leaving his parents' and the old woman’s corpses behind. There had been no time to stay and mourn them.

On that day, Nezumi vowed to never again give someone the chance to corner him. He kept his guard up at all times, always looking over his shoulder and sneering at every person he passed with distrust.

Behind him, Shion stumbled over a crack in the curb, and he almost crashed into an old woman and her tiny white dog who stepped out from one of the stores lining the walkways. The dog yelped and snapped at Shion’s ankles.

"Watch where you’re going,” the woman growled. She stormed down the curb with her nose stuck in the air. The dog mimicked its owner and marched along the pavement with its tiny snout pointed skywards.

“S-sorry!” Shion called back after her.

Shion’s presence complicated the matter. Nezumi had someone else to look out for now. _Just a minor complication_ , Nezumi had told himself while he stood at the bottom of the stairs and waited for Shion to pack his entire life into a backpack.

Nezumi had only ever been responsible for himself. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he needed Shion. Horizon Labs would have taken advantage of such a perfect weapon if Nezumi hadn’t swooped in and snatched him up first. It had been impulsive to bring him along, an investment Nezumi hoped paid off in the end.

Shion was much different than Nezumi would have expected. It seemed almost comical that someone capable of causing mass destruction could be so disarming and kind-hearted. Nezumi wasn’t accustomed to charity. Everyone had an agenda—but Shion just wanted to see the best in everyone.

Shion had made an attempt at small-talk last night. He’d offered up a secret about himself and tried to communicate and understand. Nezumi hadn’t known what to say. That ridiculous smile made his stomach twist. It made it hard for Nezumi to be angry with him without feeling uncomfortable about it. It was…unsettling. Nezumi was beginning to think that taking Shion along with him might have been a huge mistake.

Although, it had been _Shion_ who spotted the Lab agents in the hotel. _I should have known better_.

Nezumi tried to make Shion feel at ease for the sake of progress, and a comfortable bed in a hotel had seemed the quickest method. He couldn’t deny the idea of a soft bed and one night when he didn't have to worry about being ambushed had quickly become appealing. His nightmares kept him from sleeping well. Even in the hotel room, Nezumi refused to sleep with his back to the door. He didn’t feel comfortable letting Shion at his back, either, but it was the best option of the two. Nezumi hadn’t slept well, but it was better than another night in the woods.

Nezumi didn't want to do it again. If nothing else, he hoped Shion understood the danger staying in a town presented. Too many chances to get cornered. Too many eyes watching. Too many people with hidden agendas who’d turn them over the moment a Lab agent wielding a badge came to their door. Nezumi never wanted to become so accustomed to comfort and luxury that he made unsafe decisions. Nezumi had done it to be helpful, but helpful was a liability. _Shion_ was becoming a liability.

And Nezumi was a fool who’d abandoned his basic survival instincts for something as ridiculous as _hope_.

Nezumi ducked into an alley three blocks away from the hotel, Shion right on his heels. In broad daylight, every corner of the city was a possible nightmare. How many agents had followed them into town? How many of the men and women they’d passed on the sidewalk might have been agents in street clothes, documenting their whereabouts? Too many “what-ifs.” Too many streets and corners separating them from freedom.

There had been two agents questioning Karan at the bakery, and Nezumi had always spotted them traveling in pairs or trios. Now that the Lab knew Shion and Nezumi were traveling together, Nezumi doubted they would be foolish enough not to send in a number of reinforcements. Five, ten, maybe even twenty agents. No number seemed unreasonable. Shion was a powerhouse, and Nezumi had evaded them for almost ten years. The two of them together could be devastating for Horizon Labs.

Shion gasped for breath behind him.

It was Shion’s first time running from danger. Nezumi remembered the panic that came with that first time, the terror that took over the mind and made it difficult to think of anything other than escape. Shion wasn't used to sprinting the way Nezumi was. He didn't know the best places to duck into to avoid a crowd. He didn't know how hard it was to pretend he wasn't being chased when he walked into a store, to avoid questions and stares from strangers who might turn him in. Entering a store in a state of panic made people wonder if he was running from the authorities—which was accurate enough.

"Where should we go?" Shion choked, and Nezumi hissed at him to _be quiet_. There was no telling where the agents would pop out of next. Nezumi hadn't asked for a description of the agents. It didn't matter. Those idiots always wore those black suits with the gold and orange logo, just announcing their presence. Nezumi had trained himself to spot them well before they spotted him.

 _Need to get out of town. Quickly_. Nezumi's eyes scanned their surroundings. The pale sunlight illuminated an empty street and a few storefronts with darkened windows. Alleyways lined the street, the sidewalks pristine and well-maintained. _Perfect_.

It would be too easy to duck out of town and vanish into the woods. The agents didn't have dogs with them, or else Shion would have mentioned it. Nezumi didn't think the Lab wanted _that_ kind of attention. People tended to panic when there were too many indicators that the agents were there for anything other than a few questions and to collect information.

The town was small, but fear made the streets long and the gaps between the buildings terrifying. Agents could have been lurking around each corner. The middle-aged mother rocking her screaming child and raising an eyebrow at them from her second-story window could have pointed them out to the agents if they happened to be right on their trail.

Nezumi couldn't trust these people. He couldn't trust anyone but himself. He couldn't even trust _Shion_ , who had given him no reason to believe he wouldn't crack under the pressure of being a fugitive and hand himself over to the authorities in exchange for a promise that his mother would be left unharmed. Shion seemed like the self-sacrificing type.

"Nezumi?" Shion whispered. He struggled to catch his breath and kept close to Nezumi's back. It was almost impressive. Shion was a pampered kid with no experience on the run, and yet he managed to keep up well. Nezumi would have praised him if he weren't so busy looking for telltale signs of black and orange.

Nezumi stood at the edge of a dead-end alley. Graffiti in an assortment of colors stared back. A collection of trash cans and a single green dumpster, overflowing with white garbage bags, sat clustered against the brick wall.

 _Shit, must have taken a wrong turn_. He hadn't spent enough time getting used to the layout of the town.

“Come on,” Nezumi said. The hotel was several blocks away from them. Shion had said they were checking rooms. It bought them a few minutes, at best. There were a few ways back to the forest. Nezumi would bring Shion back the way they came, knowing the agents would be expecting him to move forward in a straight line.

Nezumi turned around, and froze as a dark figure stepped into the alley.

Shion gasped. The man in the black suit was pale and hawkish, and Nezumi stared into a pair of deep eyes set above a mouth that grinned back at him.

“Found you,” said the hawkish man.

**⁂**

Shion's mind went into panic mode. _How?_ How had they been found so quickly? Hawk and Mountain had been checking hotel rooms when Shion and Nezumi ducked out the window and onto the fire escape. _He’s supposed to be there! He’s not supposed to be here!_ Shion’s body burned, and his skin prickled as if a thousand little bees had jabbed their stingers into him. He thought quickly to the kind woman behind the hotel desk.

 _Did one of the employees tell them about us?_ Shion tried to count how many other people he might’ve passed in the hallway who could have told the agents about him, but his thoughts blurred together in a terrified cluster.

 _Someone must have bought their “missing sons” story_. Shion could have kicked himself. If he was going to survive, he needed to learn better than to believe that people wouldn't immediately cooperate with the authorities. People had no way of knowing that Horizon Labs was up to no good. Until a few days ago, Shion had also believed they were just a prominent pharmaceutical company and not an agency that ensnared people with superpowers.

"I’m not surprised you tried to run," Hawk said. His voice was sharp and wheedling, a perfect match for the harsh lines of his jaw and the length of his pointed nose. Mountain grumbled at his side and cracked his knuckles.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person,” Hawk went on. His eyes flicked over Shion’s face and then settled on Nezumi. “You’ve been evading us for quite some time, _Nezumi_. You’re something of a legend back at the Lab, y’know? The boy no one can seem to catch. It’s impressive you’ve been able to evade us for so long. You were just a little boy when we first approached you, right?” Hawk’s jaw twitched, and his dark eyes flickered in the sunlight. “I never had the, ah, the pleasure of meeting your parents, but I went through their records. I saw the footage. You look so much like him, you know."

Nezumi tensed at Shion's side.

"You have her eyes, sure,” Hawk said, “but you look the most like him. From what I heard, he was a terror to deal with. He hurt _a lot_ of people. I saw the data sheets. The statements. The incident reports. Christ, it took seven bullets to bring him down... And those _teeth_." Hawk shuddered. “Creepy, weren’t they? Like a shark’s. Thank goodness you didn’t end up with _those_. Your smile wouldn't be nearly as charming.”

Nezumi's fists curled at his side. From his periphery, Shion could see Nezumi's shoulders shaking. It worried him. In the few days they'd traveled together, Shion had picked up bits and pieces about his unorthodox companion. Nezumi didn't talk about himself. Shion had tried to open up to him, but Nezumi hadn’t volunteered any information about his personal life.

Even so, Shion considered himself decent at reading people. Nezumi’s frustration when Shion mentioned Safu or his mother back at the bakery, the tension in Nezumi’s shoulders and the way his jaw tightened the longer Hawk kept talking—there was something there, something about Nezumi’s life before going on the run.

The “him” Hawk kept referring to must have been Nezumi’s father. _Seven bullets to take him down_. Shion’s heart clenched.

Mountain took a step forward. No chance of breaking through the alley and sneaking past them. Shion looked at Nezumi from the corner of his eye. _Make them leave_ , he thought. He avoided saying it out loud, if only to keep the agents from knowing what he planned. _Why aren't you telling them to leave?_

Nezumi had made so many people bend to his will. He'd tossed the agents in the bakery aside with only a few gentle words. He’d convinced an old man who’d never seen him that he was a regular customer. Nezumi was strong. Shion had no doubt he could simply wave his hand and make the two men towering before them disappear.

So why wasn't he?

Mountain reached up to his left ear and toyed with the earbud Shion had noticed in the hotel lobby. Shion looked at Hawk, and saw he had one as well, nestled among the slicked-back tresses of his hair. Were they receiving orders from somewhere? Recording the encounter? Hawk had mentioned “footage,” and the thought of having his face recorded by these two men made Shion sick to his stomach.

Hawk folded his arms over his chest. "It was a nice effort, but this game of cat and mouse is over.” He cocked his head to the side and addressed Nezumi. “Look, how about we make you a deal? We’ll set you up with a nice little room of your own, two meals a day. And all you gotta do is help us understand your powers. Pretty posh, right? Sounds way better than what you’ve got now. Living life on the run can’t be very comfortable.”

Nezumi made a sharp noise in his throat. “You’re asking me if being on the run is better than a prison?”

“Whoa, now. A prison?” Hawk’s eyes widened. “Is that what your parents called it? You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t know what your parents told you about Horizon, but it’s not true. Your parents were a mess when they staged that riot, went completely nuts for no reason. We were trying to _help_ them. That night…things got a little out of hand. We tried to reason with them, but your father was—” Hawk exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry it happened the way it did, Nezumi. I really am. The Lab didn’t go there planning to hurt them. Your father attacked them. He was unstable, and the tranqs weren’t working. What else were they _supposed_ to do, let him rip them apart?”

Nezumi’s jaw twitched.

“Look, you have the wrong idea about us,” Hawk went on. “Horizon Labs doesn’t imprison superhumans; we work with them. We’re just trying to create a better future. How about you, kid?" Hawk turned to Shion.

Shion flinched. Hawk had an almost pitiful look on his face, and Shion felt a twinge of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach.

"You were dragged into this against your will,” Hawk said. “You got caught up in some crazy conspiracy theory about us, and I get it. I really do. I saw the damage to your mother's bakery. Karan, right?” The sound of his mother’s name sent terror spiking through Shion’s blood. “She seems like a nice lady. Had no idea where you went when we questioned her, or why this kid had come in and taken you away. Didn't even know you _had_ powers. Did Nezumi here erase her memories?”

Hawk shook his head and gave Shion a sad look. “All we want to do is _help_. You got pulled into this because Nezumi told you some crazy stories about us, but you’re only getting one side of the story. Horizon Labs doesn’t just go around kidnapping people off the streets. We’re not monsters. We’re trying to help people, like you, control the things they can do before someone gets hurt.

“Nezumi’s been fed stories about us since he was little. His parents were unwell. We tried to help them, but they had these delusions about what we were trying to do. They were dangerous. You should see the incident reports we had to write about them. The brutal murders in the local town the night they escaped. We were just trying to keep them safe, Shion. That’s all. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. We just want to _help_.”

Shion could hear the lilting rise of Hawk's voice. Baiting him. He knew he shouldn’t trust what Hawk was saying, but doubt twisted through his stomach like a garden snake. Nezumi was, by all accounts, a strange boy. He’d swept in out of nowhere and turned Shion’s whole world upside down. Could it be possible that Shion had misread the situation at the bakery? Had the two agents harassing his mother simply been bad at their jobs, with no sinister intentions beneath it?

The more Shion thought about it, the more he began to wonder if he’d been strung along. Nezumi was so paranoid about the Lab tracking him down that he viewed everything as a threat. The thought made him sick. It wasn’t possible that Shion had given up his mother, his best friend, his childhood home for the ramblings of a madman…right?

“Shion,” Hawk said, and his voice had hardened. “What you did to the bakery was...explosive. You understand why we can't allow you to walk around unsupervised.”

It was true. Shion knew it. That didn’t stop it from stinging, all the same.

His stomach rolled as he thought of the damage he'd caused. He'd broken so many things. He had no control. His anger took him without warning, and when it did, Shion had no choice but to push it away from him. When that happened, he destroyed the things around him. Shion needed to learn control—but how was he supposed to do that when Nezumi was dragging him on an endless road with only a flimsy goal lighting the end of the tunnel?

But then Shion thought back to the kind woman at the hotel. Hawk and Mountain had tasered her for not giving them information. The way Sachiko and Toshiya had grabbed Karan’s arms and tried to drag her toward the door until Shion’s explosion caught them off-guard.

 _“We don’t want to hurt anyone,” huh?_ The confusion twisting through Shion’s mind settled into an angry fog. Nezumi might have pulled him from the world he knew, but Nezumi had always been upfront with him about how he viewed the world. Shion hadn’t known him long, but he’d never felt a reason to doubt him. Horizon Labs had done things in the past few days that undid all the good intentions Hawk attempted to sell him. _They didn’t need to grab my mom. They didn’t need to taser that woman_.

Shion didn’t know the whole truth, but he was certain of one thing.

He didn’t trust Horizon Labs.

Hawk took Shion’s silence as affirmation and softened a bit. "I knew you'd understand. You're a smart kid, Shion. Come quietly, and I promise things will go smoothly. You'll like where we're going. It's not as nice as your bakery, but we’ll treat you well, and you'll be doing the world a big favor."

Mountain took a step forward—and Nezumi suddenly dove forward and took him to the ground.

It was horrifically graceful. Nezumi's arms wrapped around Mountain's waist. He was far smaller than Mountain, but the combination of his body weight and the element of surprise had Mountain tripping over his own two lumbering feet.

Both of them went crashing to the ground.

Nezumi's silver eyes flashed in the morning sunlight. He was a flurry of black and silver, and as Mountain threw an arm out to grab him, Nezumi drove his fist forward into his nose.

They rolled on the ground, one over the other, with Nezumi's hands clutching Mountain's thick wrists and keeping his meaty fingers from catching anything vital. Mountain was much larger, but Nezumi was quicker. One of his black combat boots struck Mountain’s stomach, giving him enough space to wriggle out of his grip.

It was quick and terrifying. Shion had seen cats in the alley outside the bakery fight with each other in the middle of the night. Nezumi’s manner of fighting was much the same. He used all of his body, twisting and making himself a difficult target to strike. Mountain’s meaty hands grabbed for his arms, his legs, his throat—but Nezumi raked his nails across Mountain’s face, jammed his fists into his chin and his exposed throat, and delivered swift kicks to any part of his body he could land a hit on.

“Son of a bitch!” Hawk reached for his pocket. Shion saw the handle of what appeared to be a gun. He didn’t want to think Hawk might actually shoot them—but there were ways to shoot and injure a person without killing them.

Shion threw his hands out. " _STOP IT_." Anger bubbled through him at the thought of Hawk firing off a round and hitting Nezumi. Shion’s eyes darted around the alley and landed squarely on one of the trash cans huddled in the corner.

It lifted off the ground and went hurtling into Hawk's side. He made a sound like a rubber duck popping as the wind burst out of him, and the metal clattered on top of him. Old food wrappers, rotting plants, and a used diaper tumbled onto the ground next to Hawk's face. The gun struck the ground and spun into the concrete wall.

Shion’s body burned as he threw his hand out again. The gun went sailing up and away. Shion didn't watch where it landed. As long as it was away from Hawk’s hands, it was good enough.

Nezumi scrambled to his feet. His hair was disheveled, falling out of the messy ponytail he’d dragged it into earlier that morning. He bolted forward, and Mountain snagged his ankle. Nezumi fell with a curse, his chin striking the ground.

Mountain's eyes burned with vengeance, and Shion looked at the dumpster. It shuddered and then fell onto its side, just inches from crushing Mountain, the heavy lids bursting open and spilling bags of trash all over him. The massive lid thumped against Mountain's back, and with a grunt, his hand slipped from Nezumi's ankle.

Shion dove forward and grasped Nezumi by the bicep. He hauled him to his feet and shoved him toward the mouth of the alley. "Come on, come on, come on!"

Nezumi didn't need to be told again. Immediately taking the lead, he bolted into the open street. Shion ignored Hawk struggling to climb onto his knees and searching for his gun. Mountain rolled onto his back, gasping, and struggled to kick the lid and the piles of garbage aside. Shion didn't look back.

He and Nezumi didn't stop running until the town was nothing more than a black dot on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	10. Backpedal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! Here's another chapter of _Beyond the Horizon_. We hope you like it! The boys escaped a pretty dangerous situation in the last chapter, so hopefully they'll avoid more in the future!

“You’re bleeding.”

Nezumi glanced up from the bucket of spades he had been glaring at. The bucket and its contents had not offended him in any way; they just happened to be what was in his sightline as he dissociated over the catastrophe in the alley.

After he and Shion had left the no-name town and its antagonists behind, Nezumi had led them into the woods. His first instinct was always to bolt for the woods and hide amongst its shadows. If anyone asked, he would reason it was because it was easier to hide your trail when you’re off the beaten path. But if Nezumi really dug into it, he knew it was because he was most comfortable in the woods. He had grown up isolated, deep in the trees in his family’s cabin. To him, the woods meant privacy and safety, and they were as close to a home as he would ever get until Horizon Labs was blown off the map.

He and Shion were currently hunkered down in someone’s cabin shed, deep in the heart of the forest. The small, cramped space boasted a wall of rusted tools, several mountains of mildewy rags, and cobwebbed windows complete with fat-bottomed spiders. Nezumi hoped Shion wasn’t afraid of creepy crawlers, because there were dark shadows near the ceiling and door that skittered silently lower from time to time.

“I have a first aid kit in my bag,” Shion said, finally moving his searching gaze from Nezumi’s face.

Shion pulled his backpack toward himself. It cleared an uneven trail in the grimy, dust-coated floor. He opened a small, silver first aid kit, pulled out some gauze and disinfectant, and offered them to Nezumi.

“Clean your chin. Does your head hurt? You didn’t bite your tongue, did you?”

The alcohol burned as Nezumi pressed the wetted gauze to his chin, but he suffered the discomfort without so much as a flinch. An abrasion like this was nothing; he had sewn stitches into his skin before. Nezumi stared down at the gauze when he was finished. The murky light in the shed made the bloodstains look black.

“Your knuckle is cut too.” Shion reached for Nezumi’s hand, and Nezumi snatched it back.

Shion flinched. His empty hands curled on his lap and Nezumi swallowed. He meant to keep Shion at arms length, but every time Nezumi pulled away and Shion’s face fell, guilt gnawed at his insides. He didn’t know what to do about it. Keeping his distance from others had never made him feel guilty before.

 _It’s not my fault_ , growled Nezumi’s rational mind. _He_ chose _to come with me. I did nothing wrong bringing him into this mess, and I_ don’t _need to be his friend._

But lately doubt had begun whispering through the logic, slipping into the hesitations like skips in an oft-played record.

Nezumi wished Shion would stop looking at him like he was now.

Shion’s dark eyes pooled the low light, making them look larger, deeper, more insistent. Since they’d settled in the shed to gather their bearings, Shion’s mouth had arranged itself into a small, tight line of uncertainty, or perhaps concern. Either way, Nezumi didn’t like it. He didn’t like being studied. It meant he was _seen_ , and Nezumi preferred to be a blur in people’s day to day.

Shion, however, seemed determined to figure him out: a few questions here, a concerned look there, plucking at Nezumi’s threads one at a time, trying to find the one that would unravel the mess of him. Shion seemed to think he was a puzzle box, seemed to believe if he only twisted the right piece in the right way, Nezumi would come apart, all his inner workings exposed, the mystery revealed. But Nezumi felt more like a sinkhole: one careless poke and the gaping pit caved inward, deepened, and in his worst moments, the darkness swallowed the people nearest to him whole.

The Lab was the origin of that darkness. It followed Nezumi close as a shadow and blackened everything around him. And now it reached its crooked fingers out to brush Shion, and Nezumi realized with cold horror what it meant to be responsible for someone else. Whether he acknowledged Shion as his friend or not did not change the fact that Shion was with him now, and any danger that befell Nezumi was Shion’s to face as well.

_He saved me._

The big man had him laid out on the ground, and his partner had a gun. If it weren’t for Shion’s intervention, that could have been it for him. Shion’s powers had chosen to cooperate when they needed them most, but if they didn’t figure out how to unlock them on command, next time they might not be so lucky.

 _I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want this_. Nezumi’s heart ached with regret, but there was nothing he could do but move forward and hope he and Shion would continue to survive.

Nezumi cleared his throat. “Good job with the agents. That was quick thinking.”

Shion’s dark eyes bored into his. The look demanded something of him. Nezumi shifted uncomfortably.

“Thank—”

“Why didn’t you use your powers on them?”

Nezumi’s mouth hung open, the aborted ‘thank you’ dangling on the tip of his tongue. “I couldn’t. They had scramblers in.”

"Scramblers?”

“They’re a kind of earpiece. They give off a low frequency, and it interferes with my ability. I can’t use my power on agents that wear them.”

Shion’s mouth pulled down at the corners, clearly displeased.

He hadn’t mentioned this limitation to Shion before? Nezumi’s cheeks heated, and he rubbed the back of his neck to distract from the mortification. His hair had come loose during the fight, and apparently, he had lost his hair tie in the aftermath. He collected his hair into a single coil and pulled it over his shoulder to keep it from dragging in the dust and spiderwebs along the walls.

“You need to answer my questions.”

Nezumi’s eyes snapped to Shion’s. “In regards to?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?” Nezumi arched an eyebrow. “I think you overestimate my knowledge, Shion. Though I am flattered.”

Shion’s brow twitched and an invisible force shoved Nezumi against the wall. It didn’t hurt, and the pressure was only there long enough to bump his head against the wood before retreating, but Nezumi coughed once in surprise.

“I don’t want to joke and I don’t want to argue with you,” said Shion. Nezumi had never heard such command in his voice before, and for once his mind could supply no pithy retorts. Nezumi sat still and silent as Shion continued. “You need to explain Horizon Labs to me and why you hate them so much.”

An element of accusation lay in the hard, flat tone of Shion’s voice. Nezumi’s heart spasmed. “Don’t tell me you believed the garbage that agent told you.”

“Would I be here if I did? But part of what he said resonated with me.”

Nezumi’s mouth clamped shut. Shion sighed, and the criticism faded from his expression. His next words were soft and hesitant.

“I went into this journey basically blind. I just…took everything you said at face value, because I knew that whoever those people were who came to my mom’s bakery, they weren’t good people. I wanted to believe that if I had to have these powers, and if I had to leave my life behind, that I would be doing something to make up for it.

“But, Nezumi... I barely know anything more now than I did four days ago. I don’t know how to control my powers, I don’t understand why the Lab is after us, and we were just attacked!”

Nezumi forced himself to keep eye contact with Shion, but he couldn’t quite keep his breathing in order. That unfamiliar, but growing steadily more familiar, guilt returned full force.

Shion raked his teeth over his bottom lip. “So, I need to know, Nezumi. I need you to explain to me what we’re doing and why we’re doing it, because I want to be able to take your side without having to doubt again.”

Nezumi frowned. He glanced down at the soiled gauze he still held in his hand. _Take my side?_ And Shion’s face was so earnest. It was bizarre, and a little corny. But…

“What do you want to know?” Nezumi said to the floor.

“Start from the beginning. How did the Lab find you?”

Nezumi almost laughed, and in fact, after a few breaths of holding it in, he _did_ laugh. It was a low, mirthless sound, and Shion looked as uncomfortable upon hearing it as Nezumi felt. Nezumi’s laughter trailed off to a dry cough when he inhaled too much dusty air.

“Nezumi…?”

“S’fine,” he muttered. “How did the Lab find me. Heh. Well, to answer that I’d have to tell you about my family, wouldn’t I?”

Shion canted his head at the bitterness in Nezumi’s voice. “You can talk around it, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s impossible. They’re where it all started.”

Was he really going to do this? He talked to precisely no one about his family. Then again, until Shion, there had been no one to tell. Nezumi didn’t want to reminisce for the sake of satisfying Shion’s curiosity, but he had seen the momentary doubt on Shion’s face when the Lab agent ran his mouth about Nezumi’s motives. If he and Shion were going to work together—fight together—they needed to trust each other implicitly. Their lives were on the line, and Shion needed to understand the nature of the monster they faced.

“My parents were part of the first trials.” A weight settled over him as the words left his mouth, but Nezumi pushed on. “I’m not sure whether the test subjects were volunteers or forced into it—they never talked about that part—but back then, the Lab’s goal was to create ‘super soldiers.’ The idea isn’t terribly original, but I suppose their approach was….”

Shion nodded, a little hesitantly, as if he was afraid of showing too much interest. “What were your parents’ powers? If I can ask?”

The corner of Nezumi’s mouth curved up. “Papa had shark teeth and Mama could control the weather. When they argued, it was like watching a run of _Sharknado_.”

Shion’s eyebrows raised the appropriate degree to convey both amusement and surprise, and Nezumi chuckled dryly. “Anyway… An older woman who worked at Horizon Labs helped them and a few others escape. Your dad among them, I suppose. They never went into detail how, but it doesn’t really matter.

“The old woman and my mom were close, so she stayed with them when they found a cabin up in the middle of nowhere to hide, and eventually, live. I grew up there, and for the first few years, I didn’t know anything about the Lab, or that having powers was abnormal. I thought the old woman was my weird dud grandma; she made me call her Grandma, and my parents played along. But when I turned five or six and started asking to come with my dad on errands, they finally told me a bit about the Lab, so I would know to be careful of strangers in town.”

Nezumi paused. The shed seemed so much smaller than before, so much darker. Shion’s large brown eyes looked like blackholes. He hadn’t so much as twitched since Nezumi dived into the abbreviation of his home life. It was possible he hadn’t breathed either.

Shion could sense the twist coming.

Nezumi raised his gaze to the clouded window at the opposite end of the shed. He wet his lips. “I think it was the trips to town that tipped the Lab off, but who really knows. What matters is that the Lab found us.”

Nezumi didn’t let himself think about that day in his waking hours. The memory was an ever-present ache, a bruise he could only look at askance. But the details of it visited him in nightmares.

His father’s shout of horror. The way the bright summer sun blotted out from the sky like a fist had closed over it. The sudden maelstrom called by his mother’s fear, snow and rain beating against the windows, the thunder that rattled the wood like the terrified bellows of a mighty beast. His mother’s trembling voice as she told him to get under the bed and stay there and be quiet, please please stay quiet whatever you hear. The bodies, riddled with holes. Their eyes: staring blankly at the living room ceiling; down the hallway; at the blood-spattered mail a foot from her nose.

“They killed the old woman first, but no one knew it; I didn’t find her body until after. So when they broke down the front door, it was a complete surprise.” Nezumi’s voice came out steady, as if the details meant nothing to him, as if the wound was properly scarred over. But the truth was he had gone numb. “My father held them off while my mother carried me to the back of the house. I hid under the bed and she guarded the door. My mom’s powers weren’t the best inside, but she managed to take down a few agents before they shot her in the hall.”

Nezumi’s mouth twisted as the memory lanced through him. When the bullet punched through his mother’s chest it hardly made a sound, but Nezumi saw the impact, and it stung as if he had been pierced too.

Shion’s face crumpled in pain. He looked as though he might say something, so Nezumi barreled on, desperate to finish the story and be done with this moment.

“I don’t think the Lab intended to kill them, but my parents… They were fighters.” Nezumi’s mouth twitched, but it was more grimace than smile. “What I know about Horizon Labs and its experiments have been collected rumors and accounts twisted out of agents’ mouths, but I believe all of them, because I know this one hard fact: My parents would rather die than go back to that place.”

Shion swallowed. He dropped his gaze to the floor and said nothing for a loaded moment. “How did you escape?”

Nezumi narrowed his eyes. Shion’s voice was thick, as if he were barely holding back tears. The sound made Nezumi’s insides feel hot and snarled. Furious. How could Shion be close to tears? He hadn’t been there, he didn’t see the things Nezumi saw. The loss wasn’t his to mourn. How dare he cry when Nezumi’s voice wouldn’t even wobble?

“When the agents found me, they tried to lure me out like I was some idiot child,” Nezumi spat. “Like I didn’t just watch them murder my mother. I knew the basics of my powers then. I told them to forget me and get the fuck out.”

The reality was less self-possessed. Nezumi’s face had been burning, his chin dripping with snot and tears. His voice had trembled and cracked when he commanded the agents to forget they saw him and to leave the house and never return. But his grief and terror sent the order through their minds like a shockwave. It was almost as frightening to see every face fall slack in unison, to watch them turn like wooden soldiers and march lockstep out of the house into the snow.

“I’m…” Shion’s breath shuddered. “I’m sorry.”

Nezumi folded his arms over his chest and turned his face away, as if he would stop hearing the heartbreak in Shion’s voice if he didn’t have to see his desolate expression.

“That’s… How could they do that? I thought they wanted us alive?”

“Because that’s who they are, Shion. The Lab doesn’t see us as humans; we’re an idea to them. A pet project that they only tolerate so long as we obey their orders. They don’t want to help us—they want to _use_ us. And if they can’t do that, they kill you. Do you understand now?”

“I’m sorry,” Shion repeated, and this time it sounded like he was apologizing for more than Nezumi’s childhood trauma.

Nezumi glanced at him. Shion still looked pained, but there was a harder edge to the shine in his eyes.

Shion sucked in a breath. “I know you didn’t want to tell me, but I’m glad you did. I needed to understand your side, because... Because I know you, Nezumi. Not as well as I hope to, but enough to know you wouldn’t hate with no reason—and you have more than enough reason. And what I’ve seen of the Lab myself, I don’t like. They hurt people who stand in their way.”

Shion’s mouth twisted to the side and he straightened. “I know I said this before, but now I really do mean it. I want to help you take down Horizon Labs.”

Dust motes drifted between them in the wan morning light as they stared into each other’s eyes. The ice that had seeped into Nezumi’s veins was thawing, and a slow-burning fire was rising in its place. He had been fighting Horizon Labs for so long, fantasizing about tearing it down—brick by brick, agent by agent if he had to, because that was all he could manage alone.

But he wasn’t alone anymore. Shion’s eyes flared with conviction, and for the first time in nine years, Nezumi felt hopeful. He felt powerful.

“Well then,” Nezumi said, his voice a little rough around the edges, “we better start training more. Revolutions don’t run on dreams alone.”

Shion smiled. “Nor on wounded soldiers. So would you please let me….” He trailed off as he leaned in.

“Hey, what’re you...?” Nezumi pressed himself back against the wall.

Shion huffed and leveled a beleaguered look at him. “I just want to put this bandage on your chin. You’re still dribbling blood and it’s annoying me, so sit still.”

Nezumi clenched his jaw, but he let Shion press the bandage to his chin. This was a mistake, because Shion next demanded he be allowed to swab Nezumi’s knuckles with disinfectant, and whined so belligerently about it that Nezumi was forced to concede in order to shut him up.

“You do know I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself?” Nezumi rumbled as Shion wrapped his knuckle with a tight, neat line of gauze and tape.

“I do know. But I’m here now, and I think you deserve a break.” Shion smiled at him. “Don’t you?”

Nezumi blinked. That was all he did, because he could think of nothing to say in response.

Shion gave Nezumi’s bandaged knuckle an accomplished pat. “All done. So, should we get moving? Or do you want to stay here tonight?”

“We should…” Nezumi scrunched his face at his brain’s continued sluggishness. He dug his thumbnail into his palm until the sting brought his wits back. “We should move again. Somewhere much farther, and away from any other towns.”

Shion nodded as he slipped the first aid kit back into the backpack. “Alright. Let’s eat these,” he murmured, pulling a few squished granola bars from his pockets, “and then we can head out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	11. Camp Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Time for another chapter. Shion and Nezumi had a much needed heart-to-heart in the last chapter, and now they can continue on in a much better place than they began.

As the sun crept above the horizon, leaching through the gaps in the trees and kissing the ground with golden light, Shion thought, _It's been eight days since I met Nezumi_.

Eight days had never seemed like a long time to Shion before, but now it felt as if a lifetime had passed. So much had transpired since that fateful morning in his mother's bakery that Shion already felt he could fill an entire novel with his and Nezumi's adventures. Shion wasn't much of a writer, but once he and Nezumi had stopped Horizon Labs (he forced down the nasty thought in his mind that hissed, _If you can, that is_ ), he might try his hand at it.

The days were blending together. Shion and Nezumi had left the small town and, thankfully, Hawk and Mountain behind. After Shion tended to the wounds on Nezumi's face and hands, they'd walked through the night, no destination and no plan aside from "get the hell out of Dodge and live to fight another day." Shion was beginning to understand that this would become their norm. Living and fleeing and conserving their strength until the moment Nezumi deemed them ready to strike against Horizon Labs.

Shion and Nezumi had spent nearly four days camping out in the woods. At times they drifted close to roads, lingering just out of sight of the cars that zipped along. When a gas station popped up, Nezumi snuck inside and worked his charms on the men behind the counters, convincing them that the fistful of leaves he offered were paper bills in exchange for protein bars, bottles of water, and on one lucky occasion, a ham and cheese sandwich that was more filling than anything Shion had eaten in the past few days. It nearly brought him to tears.

They slept as little as possible. Just enough to get enough energy to keep moving forward. After the run-in with Hawk and Mountain, Shion and Nezumi slept in shifts. The nights were long and cold, but even a few hours to lie with his eyes closed and keep still meant the world to Shion.

Though the thought of someone watching him sleep should have unsettled him, Shion found that he felt safe knowing Nezumi was looking out for him. He curled on the ground, bundled in his coat with his backpack serving as a makeshift pillow, and dozed while Nezumi sat beside him against one of the trees and kept watch.

When it was Shion’s turn to take watch, he couldn’t help but pay attention to Nezumi. He was a light sleeper, and even when he drifted to sleep, his brow was furrowed and his lips pulled downward in a pensive frown.

Shion wished there was something he could do to smooth those lines out, to comfort Nezumi enough that he’d feel relaxed for once.

In his sleep, Nezumi tossed and turned. He never stayed still. His heavy black boot had struck Shion in the shin during one of his shifts, and it had taken all of Shion’s restraint not to cry out, lest he wake Nezumi from whatever sleep he did manage to get. From then on, Shion made sure he was well beyond striking distance when it was Nezumi’s turn to sleep.

Nezumi slept very little. A couple hours, at best. It was a familiar routine. Shion would take watch, Nezumi would curl on his side and close his eyes, and then he would toss and turn until he bolted up with a choked gasp or a thin scream.

The first time it happened, Shion had been so startled, he’d screamed, too. The sound made Nezumi look over at him with wild silver eyes, and Shion held his hands up to show Nezumi he wasn’t armed, he wasn’t a threat, and he wasn’t there to hurt him.

Once he’d realized he wasn’t in danger, Nezumi tucked his legs up against his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and pressed his face against his knees so all Shion could see was a curtain of dark hair.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shion asked, once Nezumi’s breathing had evened out.

“No,” Nezumi replied, his voice muffled.

“OK,” Shion said, and when he realized it didn’t sound as reassuring as he’d intended, he took a breath and repeated, “That’s OK, Nezumi.”

Nezumi hadn’t said anything in response to that, but the way his shoulders relaxed made Shion think he’d understood, all the same.

Adrenaline had gotten them through the difficult hours of the night the few times they’d decided to travel under the cover of darkness, when the forest became so vast and only the stars and full moon illuminated their path.

Shion's hammering heart echoed in his ears, so loud he wondered if Nezumi could hear it. But Nezumi hadn't said anything. In fact, since he'd told Shion about his parents and his grudge against Horizon Labs, Nezumi had been stubbornly quiet about himself. Shion had attempted to ask him a few questions, but when Nezumi's replies became limited to a few half-hearted grunts and shrugs, Shion gave up on trying to play twenty questions and focused on moving forward.

 _He doesn't like to talk about himself much,_ Shion thought. _That must have been difficult for him._

Though Shion hoped Nezumi opening up to him about his parents would mean he'd be a bit more eager to volunteer information about himself, he understood that all good things happened in time. He and Nezumi were travelling companions. Shion knew it would only be a matter of time before Nezumi felt comfortable enough to share something else with him aside from a few barbed comments and sarcastic remarks.

For now, Shion would appreciate what he'd been offered. Nezumi had crossed a threshold with him by opening up as much as he had about his family and their fate. That he trusted Shion enough to bare that part of his soul spoke volumes.

Shion’s heart still ached from the knowledge that Nezumi's family had suffered at the hands of the Lab. Hunted down, cornered, and slaughtered like animals. But apologies wouldn't bring them back. The best Shion could do was make good on his word.

_"I want to help you take down Horizon Labs."_

Shion trusted Nezumi now. Completely. He wanted to help him. If it meant no other families would suffer the way Nezumi’s family had, then Shion was willing to move mountains if it gave him the chance to stop Horizon Labs once and for all.

“Shion.” The sound of Nezumi’s melodic voice startled Shion from his musings. He looked up and saw Nezumi standing a few paces ahead.

At his back was the line of trees, and just beyond it, Shion could make out the brightness of an open field. A clearing. He and Nezumi had been walking for so long through the night that Shion had begun to wonder if the forests would ever end, or if he and Nezumi would continue walking through the darkness for all eternity.

“What is it?” Shion closed the distance between them until he came to Nezumi’s side. “Is it a road?”

“Nope.” Nezumi pointed through the line of trees and into the gentle morning sunlight. “Check it out.”

Shion squinted out from the shade. He’d grown accustomed to the darkness of the night and the sunlight stung a bit, but once his eyes adjusted, he was greeted by the sight of a massive white structure in the middle of a broad, open field.

It was so large, he couldn’t see it all at once. The sun had risen enough to illuminate it, and after a moment, Shion said, “A warehouse?”

“Bingo,” Nezumi replied.

Shion’s eyebrows shot up. “We walked all the way to another town?”

“Not exactly.” Nezumi jerked his chin towards the left. “The town’s about a mile and a half that way. See it?”

Shion craned his neck and saw that, if he looked hard enough, he could make out a few small houses in the distance. The warehouse sat on top of a large hill, rising above the town like a monstrous white beast.

“Are we heading down there?” Shion asked. The thought of spending another night in the comfort of a bed seemed nice, but the memories of the hotel came with the terror Hawk and Mountain’s arrival had brought upon them. Shion wasn’t eager for a repeat.

“Not right now,” Nezumi said. “Eventually we’ll need to go in for supplies. For now, we should lay low.”

Shion turned to Nezumi, eyes wide, and said, “You want to _stop?_ ”

Nezumi’s lips drew back into a smirk. “Keeps them off the trail. They expect us to keep moving. They think we’re too afraid to stop somewhere, but doing that makes it hard for them to keep up.”

Shion’s brow furrowed, and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

“There’s a hundred directions we could have gone in,” Nezumi said. “That forest is huge. It’ll be awhile before they pass by here, but by then, we’ll be long gone. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to stay stationary.”

“I suppose….” Shion looked back at the warehouse. It was a long, two-story building with a mess of graffiti in an assortment of colors smeared along the chipped white bricks. Shion couldn’t see the roof well, but he imagined, given the state of the building, that it was rusted and full of holes. “So, are we going to find a hotel again, or…?”

Nezumi gestured to the warehouse. “Do you want to check in now? It’s a little early, but I think they’ll make an exception.”

“You want to sleep _there?_ ” Shion sputtered. “Nezumi, sleeping in the forest is one thing, but that’s a major health hazard. Look at it!” Shion waved his hand to the boarded up windows and cracked glass. “It’s ancient! It’s probably not even up to code.”

“Up to code.” Nezumi’s silver eyes flashed with mirth. “We’ll have to ask for a discount then.”

“I’m serious, Nezumi.”

“Well, we can’t stay at a hotel again. I doubt the town over there even has one.” Nezumi put his hands on his hips and pretended to think. “Besides, the amount of leaves I’d need to pay for a hotel room for however long we’re staying here would probably damage a few of these trees.”

Shion exhaled, hard, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was starting to develop a headache.

“This is the less obvious option,” Nezumi said. “I’m not willing to trade safety for luxury.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Shion said. He took a deep breath, taking in one last breath of the wonderful scents of trees and dirt surrounding him, and then looked Nezumi dead in the face. “If I fall through the floor, I’m taking you with me.”

Nezumi barked out a laugh, and Shion couldn’t help but smile.

**⁂**

“Wow,” Shion said, peering through one of the windows. Three boards obscured his view, and he had to press his nose against them to peer inside the dark room. “It’s even worse up close.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Nezumi said from behind him. “See anything?”

“Dark. Lots and lots of dark.”

“All right, smartass, move it,” Nezumi said, grasping the hood of Shion’s jacket and relocating him just enough for Nezumi to step beside him and peer through the broken window. “Huh.”

“I told you it was dark. You can’t see anything in there.”

“I can see everything in that room.”

Shion glanced at him in his periphery. “No, you can’t.”

Nezumi snorted. “I can see just fine in the dark.”

“Really?” Shion’s lips quirked upward into a smile. “Then what’s in there?”

“If you don’t know,” Nezumi said, “then I’m not going to tell you.”

“Sure.” Shion stepped back from the window. “All right, then, Mister Night Vision. Let’s find a way inside. Maybe there’s a broken window here they didn’t board up.”

The warehouse was much larger up close, so tall that Shion had to crane his neck to see the top windows. There were plenty of them, but Shion didn’t see any that hadn’t been crossed over with thick wooden boards. The few times he passed by a window with two slats set just far enough that he could peer through, he’d peek inside for a better look.

Inside the first floor of the warehouse was tall and mostly empty. The equipment must have been hauled off years ago before the warehouse fell into a state of disrepair. The wood blocked most of the sunlight, but Shion could make out the distinct shape of crates and metal barrels.

Shion walked around the building, with Nezumi following close behind. It was an interesting shift in their dynamic, Shion leading the way while Nezumi lingered at his back, and it made Shion almost giddy to know Nezumi trusted him to lead.

“There!” Shion pointed to one of the windows on the other side of the warehouse, the side facing the town in the distance. “That one. Look! The boards are missing.”

“And the glass.” Nezumi furrowed his brow. “Someone’s been here.”

Shion paused. He hadn’t thought of that. “You don’t think someone’s in there now…do you?”

“It’s possible.” Nezumi shrugged at the alarmed look Shion shot at him. “Probably a homeless guy. Who else would be out here?”

“If there is someone here,” Shion said, “you think you can…?” He made a gesture with his hand, pointing to his head and then flicking his finger forward to mimic something flying away.

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. “Probably. And if not, well,” he smirked, “you can just hit him with a trash can.”

Shion peered inside of the window. Farther down on the side of the building facing the town, he could see a large metal door covered in wooden boards. Some of the wood had been chipped away, as if someone had tried to pry the boards off before giving up. The stench of mold and dust wafted through the open window, and Shion’s nose wrinkled.

Nezumi came to stand beside him and looked in through the window. “Most of the glass is gone.” He put his hand on the wooden sill and pressed down. “Seems sturdy enough.”

“Do you want me to help you―” Shion started, but Nezumi hoisted himself up, slid his leg in through the window, and then dropped down inside with a muted thump. “―get up,” Shion finished. He exhaled and clapped his hands together. “All right, I can do this.”

Shion pressed his hands against the window sill. The wood bit into the soft flesh of his palms. He paused to think, and then pulled his hands back. He yanked his sleeves down to cover them, and put them back on the window sill. Protected against splinters and other bits of unpleasantness that might have been lingering on the glass, Shion pressed all his weight into his hands and hoisted himself off the ground.

He shoved one of his legs through the opening and straddled the windowsill, half in the window and half out. He felt around the ground with his toe.

“I’ve got it,” Shion said, just in case Nezumi wondered if he’d be able to get inside. He set his sneaker on the ground, and swung his other leg up. “Don’t worry, I’ve got―”

His pant leg caught on the sill. Shion stumbled forward. He braced for impact, putting his arms out to catch himself before he struck his face against the hard floor. His wrist caught on the concrete, and Shion hissed through his teeth as his leg slipped in through the window. He landed in a heap on the ground, dust kicking up around him.

“Made it,” Shion said, once the dust had cleared.

Nezumi’s black boots came to rest in front of his nose. “That was the most elegant landing I’ve ever seen. Ten out of ten.”

“I aim to please.” Shion groaned and unfolded himself from the ground. His backpack shifted against his spine, the contents within rattling around. “Ow.”

Nezumi held his hand out, and Shion’s stomach tightened with surprise. It lasted for only a moment. He reached out, took Nezumi’s hand, and allowed Nezumi to help him to his feet.

Shion dusted his knees off. He frowned at the rip in his jeans. It stretched across his left knee. The cut had been limited to the fabric, leaving his skin unscathed, but Shion knew, with the fast approach of colder weather, he’d need as many intact clothes as possible.

“Ugh, look at this,” Nezumi said, already walking away. Shion looked up. Nezumi was wandering around the middle of the room. The sunlight shining in through the open window illuminated a large collection of rocks in an obvious circle, along with a few crates dragged up around it like a set of chairs.

“I can’t believe people actually come here,” Shion said.

“Worse places to hang out,” Nezumi replied, wrinkling his nose. He nudged something beside the crates, and the tinkling of glass rang through the room as a beer bottle rolled to a stop. “Shit. These still have some liquid in them. That means they haven’t been here long.”

Shion’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “So there are people here.”

“Or there were,” Nezumi answered. He walked around the circle―a fire pit, Shion saw as he came up and surveyed the damage himself. Between the circle of stones were the remnants of burnt wood and a few broken twigs. Shredded bits of newspapers peppered the charcoal, and if Shion squinted through the shadows, he could make out a few ripped magazines piled beside one of the crates.

“There’s a mattress,” Nezumi called.

Shion turned to look. “What?”

Nezumi walked to the back half of the warehouse room and nudged aside one of the crates. “Right there. Look.”

Shoved in the corner was a twin-sized mattress. Even from far away, Shion could tell it had seen better days. The fabric was stained and threadbare, and a paper-thin blanket sat bunched up on the floor beside it.

“Do you think someone lives here?” Shion looked around the room. The walls kept most of the light and the draft out. The air outside was cool, but even with the broken windows, it was much warmer inside the warehouse than outside. Shion suspected it might be acceptably cool in the summer months.

“Either that, or it’s teenagers.” Nezumi slowly meandered around the mattress. Shion desperately hoped he wasn’t considering sitting on it.

“You don’t think―” Shion started.

“There’re condoms here.” Nezumi leaned over, squinting in the darkness, and announced, “And they’re used. It’s definitely teenagers.”

A horrified shudder raced down Shion’s spine. “People are having _sex in here?_ ”

“Yup.” Nezumi walked back toward Shion. “A lot, if those condoms are any indication.”

“That’s _disgusting!_ ” Shion took a step back, his sneaker bumping against the crates and rattling a few of the beer bottles. “This place is filthy!”

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. “Pretty judgment of you, Shion. A warehouse is a hell of a lot better place to do it than, say, the woods. Think of all the ticks. Where’s the weirdest place you’ve ever done it?”

Shion’s face burned a million degrees. “That’s none of your business!”

His voice cracked at the edges. Nezumi took one look at him, silver eyes wide, and then a laugh bubbled its way out of his throat. “You haven’t, have you?”

“Shut up!” Shion’s voice rose another octave, and the smirk on Nezumi’s face just grew wider. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, man,” Nezumi said, dragging his fingers through his hair and shoving his bangs aside. “Well, not to worry. We won’t be camping out here. If there are condoms and booze here, then that means there are teenagers who come here to party.”

Shion’s body burned, embarrassment buzzing through his head like a furious bee. “So, what exactly are we supposed to do now?”

“Let’s check out the upstairs. There’s two floors here, remember? Perhaps there’s a room those teens haven’t christened yet.”

“Oh, my god.” Shion covered his face with his hands, and Nezumi’s bemused laughter echoed through the empty warehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	12. First Session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! We made it through another week. Hopefully this one's relaxing for folks, and in the meantime, here's another chapter of these foolish boys for all of you to enjoy!

Shion and Nezumi ended up settling down in the warehouse adjacent to the first they’d broken into. In their initial investigation, they’d observed that the teens that had desecrated the first floor of the first warehouse had also spread their “good time” to the second floor. Nezumi wasn’t too upset about abandoning the first warehouse; even if the second floor had been untouched, he wasn’t comfortable staying only a floor above a teenaged revelry.

Luckily, with a little muscle, he and Shion were able to pry a few boards loose from the window of the warehouse next-door. This one was smaller and smelled more noxiously of stale air due to poor circulation, but it was untouched by debauchery and that seemed to please Shion. Apparently, the idea of two humans fornicating brought him great distress. Nezumi couldn’t help but find this amusing, but he didn’t push the issue. Sex was only fun to talk about when you were having it. Besides, he and Shion had more pressing topics to discuss.

“We should try another practice session,” Nezumi said the day after he and Shion had fully settled into their second-floor hideaway.

Shion glanced up from his inspection of the stairs.

That was another bonus of this warehouse: it had unlocked access to the roof. Nezumi knew that staying hidden inside had its many benefits, but there was a part of him that longed to be outdoors. The rooftop access provided that relief, and also gave them a good vantage point to see if there was anything or anyone coming their way.

Shion pressed his lips together in thought and walked back toward where Nezumi sat. No doubt he was reliving the terrific failure of their last session, but still he said, “Yeah. We should.” Shion picked up his half-emptied water bottle and took a sip. “Now that I’ve used my powers a bit, I think I’ve got a better feel for them.”

Nezumi nodded. “I think I know what went wrong last time.” Shion’s eyebrows shot up and Nezumi snorted at the blatant intrigue and hope in the expression. “Finish your water break and meet me downstairs.”

Nezumi rose from the crate he’d perched on and made his way to the stairs. He could hear Shion scrambling to follow, and he had barely made it down two steps before Shion was right on his heels.

Nezumi chuckled. “Look who’s eager. And to think, only a few days ago you had a panic attack every time I so much as mentioned your powers.”

“First of all, I’ve never had a panic attack. Secondly, you shouldn’t joke about that; panic disorders are serious, and a rising concern in the youth of today.”

Nezumi’s good mood evaporated. “Shut up. Never mind.”

Every time he began to think Shion was OK, the boy had to vomit up something ridiculous and piss him off.

The first floor of the warehouse was a graveyard of debris: cardboard boxes, chunks of rubble, food wrappers, crates, metal barrels, and struts from the ceiling. The leftover trash had no consistent personality. Nezumi couldn’t guess what this industrial park’s initial purpose was, but he knew what it was now: Useful. This was the perfect training ground for Shion. He had all sorts of things to practice on, and if he happened to lose control, they were far enough away from town that no one would be alerted by a loud noise or two. If anyone did hear the crashes, they’d likely chalk them up to the building crumbling due to old age and disrepair. It looked like the warehouse had done a decent job of falling apart already.

Shion’s gaze darted around the room for a second before settling on Nezumi, all expectant attention. Nezumi repressed a gulp. _This better work, or even_ I’m _going to start to doubt._

Nezumi cleared his throat. “So,” he said, “last we practiced I gave you a visualization of hands—my visualization. I think part of the problem was that. Imagining a hand works for me, but I’m not sure it’s the right thing for your power. Telekinesis seems to be more about purpose than finesse.”

Shion chewed his bottom lip. “Hm… You might be right. Whenever I feel my power, it’s like a pressure that builds in my head, or an electric current that it hurts to repress.”

“Right, and that’s the other thing I think is wrong. Your power right now is too tied to your emotions.”

Shion flinched. His eyes darted down and away, ashamed like a child who’d just had their wrist slapped by a disapproving school marm. Nezumi hurried on with his lecture so Shion would realize he had not meant the comment as a condemnation.

“Or rather, it’s tied to high negative emotion,” he clarified. “So far, we’ve been lucky; your powers worked when we needed them to because you were feeling stressed and you lashed out to protect yourself. But that’s not control. Not even close. We have to get away from the association of your power with stress and fear, otherwise you’re never going to be able to control it at will.”

Shion dragged his head back up to meet Nezumi’s gaze. “Alright. How do we do that?” Nezumi could see from the tightness in his brow that Shion was fighting not to be drowned by doubt. He was trying his best to view this moment as a clean slate, and not be discouraged or let his progress be informed by past failures.

 _Control_. Nezumi toyed with the idea as he eyed the uncertain boy beside him. He had a sense of how he wanted to conduct this training session, but he needed Shion’s full cooperation. _Let’s give it back to him, shall we?_

“First step,” Nezumi said. “Figure out what works as a visualization. Something grounding that makes sense to you.”

Shion’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. He sighed—not in resignation or displeasure, but more of a “time to get down to business” sort of huff—and crossed the room to sit on a crate. Nezumi busied himself with cataloguing the useful items in the room as Shion thought.

Preferably, they would begin practice with items that, if Shion happened to lose control and the objects shot in all directions, would not kill Nezumi on impact. Nezumi would never admit it, but ever since he’d partnered up with Shion, he had nightmares of Shion causing his untimely demise. Most times, it was because Shion had unwittingly led them into a trap—though in one iteration, he did it purposely. Sometimes, though, Nezumi dreamt he’d been caught in a bout of friendly fire shrapnel and lay bleeding as Shion cried and did nothing to save him. The projections of his unconscious mind were a riot.

Nezumi decided they’d start with the cardboard and cigarette cartons and work their way up to the chunks of rock and metal after Shion’s abilities were more fine-tuned. He began to collect all the cartons he came across.

“I can’t think of anything,” whined Shion a moment later. Nezumi meandered back to him and Shion stared warily at the collection of rubbish held to Nezumi’s chest. “There’s… There’s a huge spider on that one.” He poked a finger in the direction of a carton and Nezumi craned his neck. Indeed, there was a nickel-sized brown spider hiding on the underside of the flap.

Nezumi hummed in acknowledgement. “Care to remove it?”

Shion wrinkled his nose and uttered a barely audible, “Seriously?”

“With telekinesis, of course. I wouldn’t ask His Majesty to dirty his physical hands with such a task.”

Shion didn’t say “Seriously?” this time, but his glare implied it quite loudly. “Why don’t you talk it off the flap?” he growled.

“Telepathy doesn’t work on insects. I wish it did; I would love a pest-free house. Well, come on, then.” He gestured with his chin, but Shion only scowled. “Not even gonna try? Shame.” Nezumi plucked the spider carton from the group and tossed it across the room.

“Nezumi!” Shion gasped. “What if you hurt it?”

“Shion. Focus.” Nezumi snapped his fingers in Shion’s face. “Don’t think I don’t realize you’re stalling.”

Shion’s mouth hung open for a second, still in the rictus of concern for the arachnid he’d snitched on, but then his expression shuttered and he slumped in his seat. Nezumi felt a little of his confidence slump with him, but he corrected his posture and injected some energy into his voice.

“What if you tried…resonating with the objects?” The idea sounded way hokier when he said it out loud.

“Resonating?” Shion said the word slowly, as if feeling the shape of it in his mouth.

Nezumi cleared his throat. “You’re dealing with physical objects, so if you figured out a way to… _feel_ their energy and harmonize with it— Stop laughing.”

Shion clamped a hand over the grin spreading across his face. “I’m not,” he tried, but Nezumi glared venomously at him and Shion began to shake with poorly suppressed laughter. “No, OK, sorry. I was, but I’m not laughing at your idea.” Shion tamped down on his smile so that traces of it could only be seen in the corners of his mouth and the bright shine of his eyes. “It’s just that it’s weird to hear you talk like that. I didn’t expect it.”

“Well, I expect you to be more mature,” Nezumi groused. He could feel his face heating. He tried to stop it by pretending it wasn’t happening at all, but the satisfied look Shion wore told him it wasn’t working. “Look, didn’t your friend say you were practicing meditation before? To help control your powers? That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Safu?” The smile in Shion’s eyes dulled.

 _Aw, crap._ Nezumi knew that look: Memory, regret, longing. He supposed during the days of fighting for survival, and the stress of being tracked and chased down like an animal, Shion hadn’t had much time to think of the family he left behind in Lost Town. That was always the downfall of staying stationary; it gave you time to think about everything and everyone you missed.

Nezumi had to salvage the moment and bring them back up to momentum before Shion fell too deep into reminiscence. He did the first thing that came to mind. His arms were full of cartons, so he tapped Shion in the shin with his boot.

Nezumi meant to say something snappy and snarky, too, but when Shion flinched and looked up at him, what came out was, “You alright?”

“Yeah. Fine. I...” Shion twisted his hands in his lap and glanced at the cigarette cartons in Nezumi’s arms. “I was meditating,” he managed. Shion stood and took a deep breath, as if he could suck the ache back in and swallow it down to choke on at a later, more private date.

Nezumi graced him with a fleeting smile, pretending to believe he’d just spaced out for a moment. “Great. Love the can-do attitude. I’m going to put these things on the barrel over there and we’ll get started.”

**⁂**

Shion squeezed his eyes shut and tried again to recreate the warehouse floor in his mind’s eye. Nezumi had instructed him to take a good, hard look, and then to close his eyes and reimagine the things around him in as much detail as he could muster. It was a sort of practical meditation. Or, at least, that’s what Nezumi said. Shion wasn’t sure if it was BS or not, because on the one hand, he didn’t believe Nezumi had more than surface level understanding of meditation—how could he? Unless he practiced it himself? Shion was having a hard time imagining Nezumi sitting still long enough to meditate.

But on the other hand, Nezumi seemed to have a little knowledge about a lot of things. A collector of the eclectic, so to speak, and Shion included himself among the odd things Nezumi had carelessly picked up in his mad dash toward freedom.

Shion thought he was doing an OKish job reimagining the warehouse. It was about his twentieth time doing it, and nothing had moved since the first, so by now he had a decent sense of his surroundings. He drew in a slow, deep breath and delved into the second level of meditation, in which he tried to feel the energies of the objects around him as though they were flowing into him and he out to them.

Back when Safu had taught him to meditate, it was mostly focused on breathing. Breathe eight seconds, hold, breathe out eight seconds, and hold again. Exercises designed to clear one’s mind of negativity and steady heart rates.

What he was doing now was that and so much more. Holding an image in his mind was difficult and he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious that he was just sitting around in silence while Nezumi had to stand by and watch the boring scene.

 _Focus_ , Shion reminded himself. _Imagine the room, feel the energy._ He wanted badly to sigh, or to stretch. His legs were crossed pretzel-style, and his thighs and butt ached. _Hello, powers?_ Shion tried to divide his attention between resonating and probing his consciousness for any response. _Do something. Anything. Please?_

“Feel anything yet?”

Shion opened his eyes. The light in the room appeared fuzzy and muted as his sight reoriented itself. “Not sure…. But I don’t think so,” he confessed.

“Mm. Well. Worth a shot.”

Shion blinked at him. “Wait. You’re giving up?”

Nezumi shrugged a shoulder. “If it isn’t working, and you don’t think it _will_ work, then yeah.”

“We’ve been at this for twenty minutes.”

“Yes, I’m painfully aware of that.”

Shion narrowed his eyes at Nezumi. He felt used somehow. He refused to stand for it. “No, we’re not giving up. I didn’t sit here in this uncomfortable position for twenty minutes to get up a failure.” He locked his eyes on the pile of cigarette cartons atop their rusted barrel pedestal and demanded they make their energy secrets known.

Nezumi chuckled. A low, throaty chuckle that, of course, sounded mocking, because Nezumi’s default was derision. But Shion thought maybe he could detect a note of approval, or admiration in there as well. Perhaps affection?

Shion’s cheeks burned, and he chastised himself for even thinking of it. _Not now_ , he hissed at his stupidly quickening heart.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Nezumi said. He walked around so that he was standing behind the metal barrel, opposite Shion. He clicked his tongue and chuckled again, and this time it was pure amusement.

Shion flicked his eyes up to look at him. Nezumi’s hair lay loose and tangled over his shoulders, perfectly framing his lazy smirk and wickedly glittering eyes.

It had been a mistake to look. Shion’s heart pounded louder.

“Cartons,” Shion mumbled, both as a curse and a reminder of the matter at hand.

“You must really be straining,” Nezumi said. “Your face is turning red.”

Pressure began to build in Shion’s skull the harder he tried to focus and suppress his embarrassment of feelings. He could hear a high keen in his ears. The world inside his sightline trembled and fuzzed.

 _It’s happening again._ Shion’s mouth was so dry his tongue made a ripping noise as he peeled it from his palate. _I’m losing it._

“Shion.”

The cartons on the barrel vibrated. They were light, so the sound of their bodies bouncing on the metal was like the rapid heartbeat of a small, soft animal.

“Control it.” Nezumi’s voice was quiet. Out of hope? Fear? Respect for Shion’s concentration? “You can do it, Shion.”

 _I can’t._ Anxiety writhed in the pit of Shion’s stomach. His power rattled him from the inside out. He clenched his jaw against it. He wanted to stop, but he didn’t know how. If he gave in to the pressure, would the objects in his grasp explode out? Or would they submit, finally relieved to have a firm hand to guide them?

One of the cartons jumped and flopped back down. Shion’s palms slickened. He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. And then he let go.

The cartons shot into the air as if catapulted by a snapped rubber band. Shion gasped. Nezumi recoiled as the cigarette cartons rocketed towards him.

 _No!_ Shion grit his teeth. _Not again._ He would not suffer another loss of control at Nezumi’s expense.

He could still feel the afterimage of the cartons in his mind, as if the pressure in his head had been the exact size and shape of them, but he hadn’t realized it until he released his hold and sent them careening through the air. Something still connected them to him. An invisible tether, or a ripple of disturbed space between him and the objects he was acting on. Whatever it was, he needed to follow it and force the momentum in any other direction than Nezumi’s.

Shion pushed through the drag on his mind and reached toward the projectiles. He didn’t have enough time or control to tell them to stop, so he commanded them to part down the middle.

The cartons swerved around Nezumi and slapped the wall opposite. The impact reverberated through the wide open space for only a second before the air was silent once again.

Nezumi twisted around to look and then turned back to Shion, mouth set into a slight frown. “Why are you always throwing things at me?”

Shion opened his mouth. A number of responses came to mind, some mocking, some apologetic, but eventually he decided on plain logic. “You’re always standing in the wrong place.” He untwisted his legs and climbed to his feet. “When I let go just now, I pushed the cartons away from me, and you unfortunately happened to be standing that way. It’s not my fault you had moved into the line of fire.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault, then?”

Shion crossed his arms. “This time, yes. Yes, it is. I avoided you, didn’t I?” Shion paused. Blinked. “I avoided you.”

He stared at the cartons, lined up neatly against the wall where they’d hit and slid down to the floor. They had been headed for Nezumi, but not a single one had touched him.

 _I did that_ , Shion realized. _I used my powers to do that._ His mouth popped open. “I avoided you! I did it!” He gave a little hop of excitement.

Nezumi’s mouth quirked up at one corner. “Yes, you did.”

Shion grinned at him, accomplishment burning in his chest like a miniature sun.

And then Nezumi had to go and add, “Kinda.”

“What! No.” Shion came around the metal barrel and shook a finger at him. “I controlled my powers. You just saw me do it.”

“Yes. You did, I did, blah blah blah, _but_ ,” Nezumi paused to lay a hand over Shion’s accusing finger and push it out of his face, “you lost control. You corrected yourself at the last second, and I admit you did a good job of it, but you need a lot more practice before you can say you’re really controlling your power.”

Shion’s sense of accomplishment flagged. Nezumi was right. He still had a long way to go. He toyed with the charms on his bracelet and sighed, heavy and fraught.

“You did a good job, though. I appreciate not being pummeled by cigarette cartons.”

Shion frowned. Nezumi’s voice sounded weird just now. Quick, and forced, and a little unsteady, as if he were acting out a part he wasn’t comfortable with. He glanced up. Nezumi’s grey eyes were dark and uncertain in a way that he had not seen before.

 _He looks guilty,_ Shion decided, and tilted his head as he tried to puzzle out why.

Nezumi’s brows drew together, suddenly wary. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just thinking,” Shion said vaguely. “Is that the first compliment you’ve given me?”

“I…don’t know? What kind of question is that?”

“It wasn’t very good.” Shion wrinkled his nose. “I mean, you corrected yourself at the last second, and I sort of get that you meant to boost my confidence, but you need a lot more practice before I can say that I really feel encouraged.”

Nezumi stared at him so long that Shion couldn’t keep the self-satisfied smile from his face.

“You little bastard,” Nezumi deadpanned. “Are you mocking me?”

Shion stuck out his tongue. The look of unfiltered shock on Nezumi’s face made the childish action more than worth it. Shion smirked and swiveled to go collect some more garbage to practice on.

“No, you don’t,” Nezumi growled and snatched at him. Shion hissed in pain as Nezumi’s fingers closed around his wrist, and Nezumi immediately let go. “You’re hurt?”

Shion cradled his hand against his chest. “It’s just bruised. From falling yesterday. It’s nothing.”

Nezumi frowned, first at Shion’s wrist, then at Shion’s face. He exhaled through his nose. “Come on.” He grasped Shion’s shirt sleeve at the shoulder and dragged him toward the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	13. Storyteller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! I hope your weekend and your past week has been relaxing. We're back with another chapter of _Beyond the Horizon_. We hope you enjoy it!

“Take your jacket off,” Nezumi said.

Shion looked over his shoulder. The buttery sunlight streaming in through the boarded-up windows glittered with dust motes, illuminating their living space well enough for Shion to see.

Their brief time in the warehouse had already adjusted Shion’s vision to the dim lighting. There were times when too much light made his eyes water, but Shion still appreciated the slivers of daylight in their hiding place. It assured him there was a world beyond, something besides the ruined crates and dusty scrap metal he’d been sleeping among.

A cool breeze danced in through the gaps in the boards and tickled Shion’s cheeks. The jacket he wore created a pleasant barrier between Shion’s body and the elements, and the thought of separating himself from said barrier made a shock of aggravation twist through his stomach.

“But it’s cold,” Shion protested.

Nezumi’s eyes flashed, and Shion’s face prickled.

He braced himself for the argument. He and Nezumi had been through this song and dance plenty of times before. Shion made one comment about their situation, one remark about their uncomfortable surroundings, and Nezumi lectured him about being spoiled.

Instead of getting frustrated, however, Nezumi put on a large, fake smile. Shion recognized it immediately, because he had done it to people himself. It was a “customer-service” smile, the look a retail worker wore when a customer was being particularly unreasonable but keeping their job required them to power through it with an extra dose of pep.

“Terribly sorry for the accommodations,” Nezumi said, his voice syrupy and not-at-all apologetic. “Here are your options: You can be warm and in pain, or you can be cold for a few minutes while I fix your wrist.” Nezumi folded his hands together and cocked his head. “Take your pick.”

 _Huh_ , Shion thought. _Never realized how condescending that actually is_. He bristled at the way Nezumi spoke down to him, but he also realized customer-service rules applied in this situation, too.

If he let Nezumi know he was aggravated, then Nezumi won.

Shion tapped his chin and pretended to think for a moment. “Hmm. Such a difficult decision.”

He perched on one of the empty crates.

“Fine,” he said, beginning to unbutton his jacket. “It’s just a few minutes.”

“Excellent choice,” Nezumi said, dropping the phoney smile. He crossed the room and bent down by Shion’s backpack. “Hang tight.”

Shion shrugged out of his jacket. “Yes, sir.”

Nezumi clicked his tongue. Shion draped his jacket around his shoulders like a cloak in an effort to still make use of its warmth. The insulated walls of the warehouse warded off some of the cold, but without a proper heating system―and with pretty much all the windows smashed to pieces―it wasn’t much warmer than outside.

Shion watched Nezumi as he rummaged through the backpack for the first aid kit. He was quick and deft in his task, his luminous silver eyes flickering over the contents.

Nezumi came back, clutching the little silver box in his hands. It didn’t have much to it, especially not after Shion had used some of its contents to patch Nezumi up after their escape. A bolt of terror shot through Shion’s chest at the realization that he and Nezumi might need to get more supplies sooner rather than later―especially if their inevitable run-ins with the Lab would result in violence.

“Hold your arm out,” Nezumi instructed, sitting on the crate opposite Shion.

Shion raised his arm and held it out toward Nezumi.

“Unclench your fingers.”

Shion slowly stretched his fingers out. His wrist twinged a bit at the movement.

Nezumi popped the first aid kit open and pulled out a small roll of pale pink gauze. He thumbed at the edge, undoing it from its packaging.

“Push your sleeve up,” he said, and Shion did as he was told. The skin beneath his sleeve was pale, and goosebumps quickly rose as the cool autumn air brushed against him.

Nezumi pressed the bandage in the middle of Shion’s forearm. He slowly began to unwind it, moving in slow, steady circles. He wrapped it twice around Shion’s forearm, making certain it was secure, and then began to guide it up toward Shion’s throbbing wrist.

“Do we have enough supplies?” Shion asked. He hoped the nearby town had a pharmacy he and Nezumi could raid if needed. There were plenty of trees surrounding the warehouse, which meant there were plenty of leaves and rocks for Nezumi to use―

Shion reeled at the thought. The need to survive warred against his initial drive not to steal from people. He tried not to let his internal conflict show on his face. He didn’t feel like getting into an argument with Nezumi about it.

“For a while,” Nezumi said, focused on his task. He slowed down as he wrapped the bandage around Shion’s throbbing wrist. It hurt less if he didn’t move it, but Shion had woken up with it aching during the mornings. “Provided we don’t get in anymore fights with window sills, we should be fine.”

Shion huffed out a laugh. “I’ll try to control my temper.”

Nezumi’s lip twitched at the corner. A surge of pleasant warmth built in Shion’s chest. If he’d made a joke like that a few days ago, Nezumi would have looked at him the same way he had that night at the hotel. Like Shion had just sent the furniture careening around the room. Shion didn’t like thinking about that night because it reminded him that Nezumi was afraid of his powers. Shion was afraid of them, too; but it hurt more to know Nezumi didn’t fully trust him.

Shion watched Nezumi as he guided the bandages gently around Shion’s hand, weaving it in between his thumb and his pointer finger. It was progress that he was able to joke about his temper with Nezumi and not have his companion immediately increase the distance between them.

“What?” Nezumi asked after a moment, and Shion looked up to meet his eyes. He realized he’d been staring intently at Nezumi’s fingers, hanging on his every movement.

“Oh.” Shion’s face warmed up. “It’s nothing.”

Nezumi raised an eyebrow, but went back to binding Shion’s wrist. He’d made a complete rotation around Shion’s hand. His forearm and the back of his hand were encased in the salmon-colored cloth, allowing his fingers and thumb unrestricted movement. There was still a long strip of gauze left, and as Shion watched, Nezumi began to wrap it around Shion’s hand to create a second layer.

“Your movements are really elegant.”

Nezumi froze.

Shion blinked, but it was too late. The words hung in the air between them, painfully loud in the oppressing silence of the warehouse.

“Jesus,” Nezumi said, his voice rising. “I didn’t see any romance novels in that bag of yours. Where’d you pick up a line like that?”

Shion looked over at the window. At the dust motes dancing through the air. At anything other than the boy―the undeniably pretty boy―sitting in front of him.

“It’s true,” Shion said, deciding to stick to his guns now that he’d embarrassed himself.

Nezumi closed his eyes and shook his head. “Could you please try not to say such weird shit? For the sake of my sanity?”

“It’s not weird if it’s true.”

Nezumi scoffed. He went back to wrapping the rest of the bandage around Shion’s hand. His fingers brushed against Shion’s open palm, and Shion wondered what it would be like to hold Nezumi’s hand. His fingers were long and elegant, his nails pale and clean despite his life on the road. Shion wondered when Nezumi found the time to clip them.

Shion bit back the desire to ask Nezumi about it. Nezumi would probably get angry at him and say something like, “What did I just say about saying weird shit to me?”

Shion exhaled and folded his other arm across his lap. The charms on his bracelet jangled with the movement.

Nezumi started at the noise. His silver eyes flickered over the blue and purple cord woven around Shion’s thin wrist, peeking out from beneath his sleeve. The five silver charms had settled in a single heap, and Shion wondered if Nezumi could make out the various shapes.

Now that he thought about it, he and Nezumi hadn’t spoken about Shion’s charm bracelet since that night at the hotel. Shion had shown some of his charms to Nezumi in an attempt to open up and mend the rift between the two of them. He’d hoped being vulnerable around Nezumi would make the other boy realize he could trust Shion. Bearing the most intimate parts of his heart had made Shion feel as if he’d been cracked open with a hammer, unable to hide anything.

To his immense satisfaction, Nezumi hadn’t teased him for it. He hadn’t gotten mad. He didn’t ask questions about it, and sometimes Shion wondered if Nezumi had blocked much of that night from his memory. It wasn’t the best representation of either of them, a time when they hadn’t been on the same page. Two strangers forced together with no trust and no hope, but only fear to bind them.

Shion opened his mouth to say something―perhaps to thank Nezumi for his help, or tell him about his charm bracelet just to fill the air with sound―when Nezumi beat him to the punch and said, “So… Charm bracelet, huh?”

Shion’s heart skipped a beat. “Uh. Yeah.” He shifted his arm so Nezumi could see the charms a bit better. They clinked together as he rolled his arm, settling with the little aster on top. “I told you about it, right?”

“You did,” Nezumi said. His voice was a bit tight at the edges. Shion quickly realized Nezumi remembered _everything_ about that night.

Nezumi continued wrapping the bandage around Shion’s wrist. It was tight, and Shion winced as his arm was jostled. It stung much less than Shion anticipated.

Shion hurried the conversation along. “I guess it’s a little weird. A boy having a charm bracelet. I used to get teased for having it.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“My mom said it might be a way to ground myself when things got rough.” Shion twisted his arm again and let the charms rattle. It was a comforting sound: the _clink-clink_ of the charms he’d carried around for much of his life. “Something familiar with personal meaning to me. Something I can carry with me that I could use to steady myself when things got difficult.”

Nezumi snorted. Shion knew Nezumi was thinking of the times when Shion’s frustration and stress caused the things around them to rattle, but Shion wasn’t as bothered by it as he thought he should be. He was just beginning to understand Nezumi’s cynical attitude.

Shion considered himself a decent judge of character. He didn’t appreciate being spoken to as if he were a spoiled, naïve child, but he understood that Nezumi was a negative person by nature. He defaulted to sarcasm and anger because the world had never shown him anything else. Nothing to do but learn how to navigate through the situation.

Shion took a deep breath, calming his nerves, and plunged forward.

“These two,” he said, tapping the little aster charm and then the heart, “came first.”

Nezumi paused in his bandaging and looked at the charms. He blinked at them, and then gave Shion a bemused look. “An aster? Seriously?”

“What do you mean, ‘seriously’?” Shion asked, appalled. “Do you have any idea how hard it must have been to find an aster? She could have just picked a flower, but she went out of her way to find an aster for me.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. A perilous quest, I’m sure. I suppose the meaning behind the heart is obvious.”

“Yeah.” Shion thought of his mother. He could picture her standing in the kitchen, her dark hair bunched beneath a lilac bandana, an apron wrapped around her waist. Sometimes she got flour on her face. Shion spent much of his summer days tucked in the bakery with her. She laughed at his stories, teaching him her craft, encouraging him to branch out and experiment with his own pastries and confections.

He shook himself from his funk. He didn’t need to get nostalgic. If he and Nezumi were going to defeat the Lab, then Shion needed to stay focused. Seeing his mother again was a good motive for learning to control his powers and shake the Lab to the ground. Besides, he could cry about it under the cover of night. Sometimes that was all Shion did when it was his turn to take watch.

“So the other―,” Nezumi began.

Shion quickly pointed to the book charm. “This one came from Safu on my birthday, and the cupcake came from my mom on my birthday. It’s supposed to be a cookbook, and I guess it’s pretty obvious why my mom picked a cupcake. She owned a bakery, after all.”

Nezumi reeled back as Shion delved into a rapid-fire account of what it was like to work at the bakery. Shion didn’t really focus on what he was saying. The words simply flowed forth, spilling over his teeth like water. He told Nezumi about the day his mother perfected making cherry cakes. He told Nezumi about the time he and Safu skated around the kitchen in their socks. He told Nezumi about the blueberry muffins he’d made all on his own, only to realize he’d put salt instead of sugar in the mix.

Shion went on for what felt like forever before he realized two things: Nezumi had stopped wrapping his wrist, and he hadn’t tried to interrupt Shion once.

Nezumi sat in front of him, cradling Shion’s bandaged wrist between his hands. He still had an inch or two of gauze left, the self-adhesive side waiting to be pressed against the bandage on Shion’s forearm so it could bond.

Nezumi’s expression was blank, but his silver eyes were thoughtful. Nezumi’s eyes were key when it came to understanding his emotional state. The color changed and shifted, depending on his mood. Where his irises typically resembled a looming thunderstorm, they now looked like the swell of a stormy ocean wave, mixtures of pale silvers and deep greys swirling together. It was the most beautiful color Shion had ever seen.

“So, the butterfly?” Nezumi asked, and Shion realized he’d trailed off in the middle of his sentence. “Your mom give you that, too?”

“No, actually, I bought that one myself.” Shion fingered the charm in question, tracing his fingertip over the delicate wings. “I guess I just liked the idea of something so small being able to change into something pretty. It’s probably pretty dumb, but when I saw it, it made me hopeful that someday I’d learn how to control myself. That someday I’d outgrow this overwhelming fear that came along with my powers.”

Nezumi hummed thoughtfully. “That’s poetic.”

“Yeah,” Shion said. “I suppose it is.”

He hadn’t realized before, but in many ways, working alongside Nezumi felt much like putting himself into a cocoon. Learning to control his powers, with Nezumi’s guidance, meant he could metamorphosize into something stronger. No longer at the mercy of his emotions, no longer living in fear of the day when the world came crashing around him. Shion had thrown his lot in with Nezumi and his goals to wipe Horizon Labs off the map.

The process was difficult. It was dark and wearying and Shion had no idea what lay just around the corner. But he had to have faith that he could get through it. That Nezumi would help him get through it. They were a team now, whatever their differences. And once Shion burst out of his cocoon, he would be strong enough to be a real asset rather than a hindrance.

“There.” Nezumi pressed the adhesive down against the bandage. “You’re good.”

A sudden blast of cold struck Shion in the face. Shion drew his arm back and immediately shoved his arms into his coat sleeves, trembling from head to toe. He hadn’t noticed the cold when Nezumi was binding his wrist, but now it was all he could think about. He quickly did up the buttons on his coat and hunkered down inside of it. He burrowed his bare hands into his pockets and nestled his face down inside the collar.

Nezumi clicked his tongue. “Unbelievable. You do realize it’s going to get colder, right?”

Shion grumbled.

“Better get used to it, little prince.” Nezumi leaned back on his palms and gave Shion another condescending smile. “Probably should have packed something warmer.”

“This coat’s plenty warm,” Shion argued.

“Sure, for now. Wait until it gets _colder_.”

Shion shot Nezumi a glare. “Says the guy who wears a leather jacket.”

Nezumi waved a dismissive hand. “The cold doesn’t bother me."

“Of course not. Well, when the temperature drops, don’t get mad at me for being warm just because you’re trying to maintain an aesthetic.”

Nezumi barked out a laugh, and Shion felt a swell of pride. He’d never made Nezumi laugh before.

“How’s your wrist now?” Nezumi asked.

Shion flexed his fingers inside his pockets. He couldn’t move his wrist too well, but it felt stabilized. A few days, and Shion knew it would be completely healed.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Shion lifted his head from the collar of his jacket and gave Nezumi a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Hmm.” Nezumi looked up at the ceiling. “You did good today.”

“Yeah?”

“A little sloppy, but you’re improving. If we keep going at this pace, you’ll get there.”

Shion was smart enough to recognize it as praise. He burrowed himself back into his jacket to hide his smile. The sunlight spilling in through the window cast shadows against Nezumi’s sharp cheekbones. Shion stared at his new, strange companion. He and Nezumi hadn’t known each other long, but already Shion felt a kinship with him.

“Thank you,” Shion said again, and he meant it for more than just his wrist.

Nezumi stared at him. His silver eyes were gentle. It was the most relaxed Shion had seen him since their travels began.

And then, all at once, Nezumi came flooding back. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get sappy on me. Next time, I expect results.” He cast Shion a stern look and added, “And don’t throw things at me.”

Shion chuckled. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Nezumi looked at him, and in his eyes, Shion didn’t see disappointment. Instead, he saw a pale tremor of hope the world hadn’t completely knocked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	14. Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! Hard to believe we're already in December, huh? Here's to another chapter of _Beyond the Horizon_ , and to a restful end of the year and an even better start to the next one!

Over the next few days, Shion and Nezumi trained. After the carton incident, Shion caught on to lifting and throwing various objects quickly, and he could do so now with relative ease, if not consistent accuracy. He only had trouble with the very large things and small, delicate tasks.

Despite Shion’s willingness to improve, his doubt continued to be his greatest obstacle. If he thought the metal barrels were too heavy to lift with his arms, he struggled to imagine lifting them with his mind, no matter how many times Nezumi explained that the two were not related. For the delicate tasks, like unlocking a door, the problem seemed to lie in the fact that he couldn’t see the mechanisms with his eyes, and so he became hung up on how to act on them in his mind.

“You don’t need to know what the inside of the door looks like!” Nezumi snapped after the third time Shion had mumbled his insecurities. “Just focus on the lock opening and your mind should do the rest.”

“I don't know exactly how your power works,” Shion said, turning his attention from the door he was working on, “but that's not how mine works.”

“And how does your power work, Shion? Because right now, it looks like it doesn’t at all.”

Shion scowled at him. The papers littering the floor skittered over to his feet and whirled around them. “They work just fine,” he said. A newspaper sheet crumpled mid-air and sailed at Nezumi.

It wasn't fast and Nezumi easily caught it. He supposed that was the point; it was Shion’s proof that he had his power under control and he wasn't launching projectiles willy-nilly.

Shion faced the door again and sighed. “Why do I need to practice opening locks anyway?”

Nezumi approached. “As further training in control and finesse. So no exits are blocked from us if we're being chased, and so we can lock the door behind us as we escape.” He hopped up onto the barrel across from Shion and crossed his legs. “So we can break into the liquor cabinet when the ‘rents aren’t home.”

Shion snorted and Nezumi’s mouth twitched up into a brief smile.

“Take your pick,” he finished. “Any way you look at it, you’re opening doors for us.”

“Was that a pun? Nezumi.” Shion pretended to recoil. “I didn’t think you capable of such lowbrow humor.”

“I speak to fit my audience.”

“And I laugh only to indulge you.”

Nezumi smiled. “You’re getting quicker.”

Shion grinned back, exceedingly pleased.

“Now if only you could pick that lock quicker,” Nezumi said.

Shion pursed his lips and glared at the lock. A minute passed with no discernable change. The door appeared to be winning this staring contest.

Nezumi leaned back on his hands and shook his head. Shion’s face reflected a mix of uncertainty and focus whenever he tried to use his powers. The kind of look someone might wear as they stared down the spider in their bathtub, trying to decide whether to smash it or wash it down the drain. A single furrow formed in Shion’s brow and his dark eyes glazed with determination, even as his mouth pulled taut in a grim line of fear.

Sometimes Nezumi felt like laughing when he watched Shion work. So serious! But other times, his chest ached. He had laid such a heavy burden on Shion’s shoulders—he had laid _his_ burden on him. Wasn’t sharing the load supposed to make the weight easier to bear? But the pressure was worse—for the both of them.

Before, Nezumi had nothing to lose but his freedom. Now he had Shion. Shion, and his family and his friend who were waiting for him, who expected him to come home safe and whole. And here Nezumi was, training Shion to go into battle.

Shion’s expression twitched, shifting from uncertainty to intrigue. “I think,” he said, voice low, as if he were afraid he would frighten the words away before he could voice them, “I feel something.”

Nezumi straightened. His stomach twisted itself around in excitement and guilt. True, he was endangering Shion. He had manipulated Shion’s fear and enlisted him for selfish reasons, but it was for the greater good; to take down a corrupt and violent threat. And wasn’t that worth it?

Shion thought so. He told Nezumi he was with him completely. He had accepted the burden with his eyes open and hand held out, and he was thriving under his new sense of control. For the first time, Shion was excited when he made the world move. He was eager to try, even if he wasn’t confident of the result. He trusted Nezumi and wanted to share his successes with him.

And so sometimes now, Nezumi also felt proud when he watched Shion work. It was a warm tickle that lodged in the back of his throat, thick with exhilaration and hope, and every time Shion conquered his fears and triumphed, those feelings got harder to swallow back down.

Nezumi was beginning to think maybe it would be OK not to suppress them.

It terrified him.

“I think I’ve got it.” A tentative smile crept onto Shion’s face, and Nezumi couldn’t help but lean forward. “Just a little…bit…”

_Crash!_

Shion gasped and jumped. Nezumi’s attention snapped to the window.

“What was that?” Shion whispered.

Nezumi pressed a finger to his lips and waved him toward the rooftop staircase. His skin prickled as they stepped out into the cool dusk and crept toward the edge to look out into the woods.

Nezumi’s brain bucked at the possibility that the Lab had already tracked them down, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d underestimated their resources. At least this time, he wouldn’t be caught off guard.

They peered over the rooftop and scanned the trees. The intruders were easy to spot; they carried heavy flashlights to pierce the dim of the thick forests, but as they stepped into the wide expanse of the industrial complex, they clicked them off one by one.

There were six of them and they were not Lab agents, judging by their casual clothes and backpacks. And their general rowdiness.

Shion shifted closer to Nezumi. “Teenagers?” he asked, voice low.

One of the group was limping—Nezumi guessed they had stumbled over a piece of stone or refuse and that was what had caused the crash earlier. Their voices carried as they came closer, rising in excited conversation and laughter at the expense of the limping boy.

 _In fact…_ Nezumi leered at them. They were all stumbling and weaving a bit. One couple was literally leaning on each other in a combination of sloppy affection and literal support. Nezumi caught the glimmer of liquor bottles in their hands, already half emptied, and he guessed their backpacks carried more.

“Teenagers,” Nezumi confirmed, rolling his eyes.

Of course, he, too, was a teenager, but Nezumi often disregarded this fact. He had never felt like one, and his experiences were so far beyond what people his age encountered that he considered himself as far removed from the classification as he could be.

The teens passed their building and headed into the one adjacent. Shion wrinkled his nose and sat back.

“Guess we should stop practicing for the night,” he said. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Nezumi agreed, but he couldn’t help teasing, “Tired of being stonewalled by a door?”

Shion lolled his head to the side. “Yes. I’ve done enough work for one day; it’s time to rest.”

Nezumi chuckled. “Fair enough. Back inside?”

“Actually… It’s kind of nice out here.”

“You complain of the cold literally every night.”

“Well, yes, it’s cold,” Shion admitted, “but I mean, it’s nice to see the stars and the sky. It’s kind of stuffy staying in the warehouse all the time.”

Nezumi couldn’t tease him about that; he felt the same. The cold nipped at his face and stung his throat, but it was a good sort of burn. It reminded him he was alive, and lounging under the dark, star-dotted expanse of the sky was the closest Nezumi had ever felt to freedom.

They settled back against the wall and breathed in the chilly autumn air. Winter would soon be upon them. Nezumi wasn’t looking forward to the snow. He hoped it would be a light season, or that luck would finally smile upon them, and the Lab would stay off their trail long enough that they could spend the winter in the warehouse.

Nezumi closed his eyes, exhaustion seeping deep into his bones. The muted merriment of the teens’ partying drifted on the wind, and he wondered whether he would have been just like them if he had been born to normal parents. No stresses in his life greater than schoolwork, or dating, or being grounded for breaking curfew.

“Nezumi.”

Nezumi opened his eyes and turned his head—to find Shion inches from him. They were almost shoulder-to-shoulder. Shion’s eyes were bright and wide, and something warm and unwelcome flickered in the pit of Nezumi’s stomach.

He swallowed and angled himself away. “What?”

“Let’s steal some of their alcohol.”

“…What?”

“They were already drunk when they came up, right? And they’ve probably drank more since they went in. Maybe they’re even, uh...otherwise…engaged.” Shion’s gaze darted away for a second. He cleared his throat. “They won’t notice if we sneak in and steal one of their bottles to share. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Nezumi stared at him. Shion was grinning, his body language eager for approval and collusion. Nezumi had to press his lips together to keep from laughing.

“I don’t see what’s so fun about it,” he said.

“No?” Shion’s shoulders slackened. “But I guess you’ve probably drank lots of times, so it wouldn’t be that fun to you….” He sighed and rested his head back against the wall.

Nezumi _had_ drank before, and so he knew he wasn’t a big fan of it. But he didn’t like crushing Shion’s mood. It reminded him of what he had stolen Shion from: a normal life, where he would be free to have fun with friends, where he could sneak out and make bad decisions like underage drinking if he wanted to.

If Nezumi could give him an outlet once in a while—a moment to pretend at normalcy in between the crushing pressure of hiding and training to survive—didn’t he owe it to Shion?

“ _I’ve_ never drank before, though,” Shion mumbled, pouting and picking at the pieces of rock on the ground.

He looked like a grumpy child. Nezumi still wanted to laugh, but he suppressed it again and said, “You’ve never stolen before either. Are you sure you want to start now?”

“Well, they’re teenagers; they shouldn’t be drinking anyway.”

“ _We’re_ teenagers.”

“Exactly.” Shion turned to him, wide-eyed with indignance. “So we should rebel, too. Why should they have all the fun?”

This time Nezumi _did_ laugh, but he quickly tucked his mouth into his elbow so the sound wouldn’t carry. “You’re crazy. What happened to your morals?”

“You’re a bad influence,” Shion sniffed. “How about we think of it as a continuation of my training? You stay here, and I’ll go down and use my powers to take a bottle, secretly. You don’t have to do anything—unless I fail and they catch me. If that happens, you have to come down and rescue me. And also probably erase their memories….”

“Better not get caught, then.”

Shion held his gaze for a moment, hopeful, but not quite believing.

“Well?” Nezumi prompted. “Vodka is preferable if they have it in stock.”

Shion grinned, so wide and ecstatic that Nezumi couldn’t help but return it. “Be right back!” he said and scrambled off toward the staircase.

The air seemed colder when he was gone, and Nezumi’s wits returned. _Did I really just send him off alone to_ steal alcohol _?_ It was ridiculous, and a risk they didn’t have to take. Was it too late to go down and stop him?

“Shit.” Nezumi peered over the roof wall. Shion jogged into view a few seconds after, headed toward the other warehouse.

: _Shion, wait!_ :

Shion froze. He looked struck for a moment, but then his face smoothed out when he realized that Nezumi had just used mindspeak. Shion turned and raised his palms up in question.

Nezumi stared down at him. He had meant to tell Shion to come back, to forget the whole thing and stop being a dumb teenager, but now he didn’t know what to say. Dark had settled over the industrial park, and the pale moonbeams lit Shion’s upturned face, brightening and softening it in equal measure. The fluttering orange-yellow light of the teens’ fire escaped through the gaps in the boarded windows to catch in his hair.

It was odd seeing Shion from above; he looked different, and Nezumi didn’t know what to do with how it made him feel.

: _Don’t let them see you. I don’t like erasing people’s memories.:_

Nezumi had only said it to have a response to Shion’s questioning gaze, but he regretted the substitution instantly. It gave away too much truth, and what’s more, it made Shion turn serious. Serious didn’t suit him.

Shion nodded and disappeared around the side of the building.

Nezumi slumped down on top of the wall, cursing inwardly. The stone was rough and ice-cold against his cheek. It felt like a punishment, and Nezumi felt like he deserved it and more as one minute ticked by, and then another, and Shion still had not returned.

_This better go well, or so help me, I will—_

Shion slipped around the side of the building. Nezumi shot up. They locked eyes, and a slow smile dawned on Shion’s face as he pulled a handle of vodka from behind his back and waggled it at him.

“Son of a bitch,” Nezumi murmured.

**⁂**

Shion had certainly _never_ drank before. He ignored all of Nezumi’s advice about moderation, and the more he drank, the more he found it funny to disobey his warnings. Shion had basically drank one-fourth of the bottle by himself, and seemed determined to drink the rest.

Nezumi had never met anyone more obnoxious.

“I mean it, Shion,” Nezumi said for what must have been the umpteenth time. “You’re scrawny already and you’ve barely eaten anything, so you need to _slow down_.” He snatched the handle of vodka from Shion’s grasp.

“Okay, _fine_. I was done anyway,” Shion said for what must have been the umpteenth time. He huffed and leered sidewise at him, mumbling something under his breath that Nezumi knew must be a disparagement.

“You are a terrible drinker,” Nezumi grumbled, and took a swig of vodka. If he had to deal with an irrational and inebriated telekinetic, then he was going to need some mind dulling.

 _Not too much, though_ , he reminded himself. He needed his wits in case of danger, and to prove himself superior to Shion.

Nezumi placed the bottle down in front of him where he could keep an eye on it and Shion. The other boy’s face was flushed, and his hair and clothes had somehow managed to become rumpled. It was as though drinking had wilted him.

Nezumi tried a different approach. “Shion,” he said, his voice going soft and soothing, “you look tired. You should take a nap.”

Shion raised his eyebrows and blinked slowly at him. “Should I?”

Hope flickered in Nezumi’s chest. “Yes. I’ll keep watch, so you can rest. OK?”

“Hm…” Shion glanced at the spot on the ground he’d made his bed. “Well, then, maybe I’ll...” He began to sink down.

Nezumi let out a breath. _Thank god._ He couldn’t wait to have quiet at last.

Shion shot back up so fast Nezumi flinched.

“Psych!” Shion barked. “I’m not even a little tired!” He flopped onto his side and rolled back and forth, cackling like a mad man.

Nezumi felt the sanest parts of his soul leave his body. “Shion, _shh._ Quiet, will you? The others might hear.”

It was unlikely, though, that the partying teens would hear. The sounds from the warehouse next-door had only gotten louder. It appeared they, like Shion, were determined to go the whole night long.

Shion stopped rolling and cackling and smiled at Nezumi. “What will you give me to be quiet?”

Nezumi took another swig from the bottle and sighed. “What do you want?”

Shion had a mischievous glint in his eye that Nezumi had never seen before, and that he did not like.

“Hm,” Shion hummed in a sing-songy voice. He clambered up onto his knees and tilted his head as he thought over his price. “Oh, OK, right,” he said at last. “Right, OK. So, Nezumi.”

Nezumi waited, but Shion just smiled and stared at him. “Shion?”

Shion sucked in a breath. “Oh, sorry,” he laughed. “It’s really hard to think when you’re drunk, isn’t it? I mean, I’m bad at focusing most times, but this is just crazy. One second I’m talking, and the next, I’m looking at your face and I can’t think of anything to say. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Riveting,” Nezumi deadpanned.

Shion giggled, but slapped a hand over his mouth and whispered, _shh_. He cleared his throat and assumed a serious expression. “I remember now. Nezumi, remember when we were talking a while ago, and I said, ‘Maybe we can get to know each other more, since we’re traveling together.’ And then you said—” Shion stuck his hands on his hips and made his voice gruff and deep— “ ‘Don’t push it.’ But I want to push it. When I look at you, I want to push you.”

Nezumi’s brow furrowed. “Is that a threat? I’m not sure you’re even speaking English anymore.”

Shion made a guttural sound of frustration. “ _You’re_ not speaking English! You’re not speaking _anything_ , that’s what I’m saying! You need to share more.”

Shion knee-walked toward him, and Nezumi hastily moved the vodka behind his back.

“Not like that,” Shion said, wrinkling his nose. “I mean like what’s your flavlet color?”

“You mean ‘favorite color’?”

“That’s what I said.”

Nezumi rolled his eyes. “I don’t have one.”

“Everyone has one. Mine is red. Yours is…?” Shion stared him down, and, at last, Nezumi threw out, “Black.”

Shion sniffed. “Like your soul.”

“Excuse me?”

“Next question: Are your eyes real?”

Nezumi stared blankly at him. Shion squinted, as if Nezumi’s disbelief was somehow a matter of great suspicion, and lowered himself so that they were level with each other.

“What kind of idiotic question is that?” Nezumi snapped. “Of course my eyes are real. What else would they be? Marbles?”

Shion pursed his lips. “There’s no need to be mean. It was a real question.”

“And you’re a real freak.”

“You can ask about mine, if you want.”

Nezumi barked out a laugh. “This conversation is really freaking weird, you know that?”

“You never ask me anything!”

Nezumi froze at the force of Shion’s words.

“You don’t even want to get to know me, do you?” Shion continued, his voice wavering. “We’ve been together forever, but you don’t know anything. You never ask me anything and you’re mean when I try to ask things. Even when I think we’re friends, you say we’re not!”

Tears brimmed in Shion’s eyes and ran down his flushed cheeks. “I stole vodka so you would talk to me, but you just hid it and didn’t drink it at all, and you tried to trick me, and you keep _yelling_ at me!”

Shion began to shake with loud, breathless sobs. Fear coiled in Nezumi’s belly as he watched him hiccup and dribble snot and tears down the front of his coat. He didn’t know how to handle this.

Nezumi swallowed. “Shion—”

“I feel so lonely,” Shion whimpered, swiping at his eyes. “I miss my mom.”

Nezumi’s mouth snapped shut. His chest ached. His body burned with guilt. His hands tingled with the want to reach out, but Nezumi lowered his head and fisted them in his lap instead. Nezumi couldn’t remember the last time he felt so awful.

He wished he had never brought Shion with him. He wished he had never met him.

His shame burned hotter for even thinking it. This was not Shion’s fault. Shion wasn’t the one who was broken.

But Nezumi was breaking him.

Shion cried for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually he spent himself. Nezumi continued to stare at the ground as Shion’s trembling breaths quieted to sniffles.

Shion shifted and made a small, sad sound. “I’m sorry, Nezumi,” he mumbled. “I… I don’t know where that came from. I’m drunk; I wasn’t being fair.”

Nezumi gave a dry laugh. “It was more than fair; it’s true.” He drew his gaze up to meet Shion’s. “I’m a frigid bastard.” Shion stared back at him with red-rimmed eyes. He looked like a complete mess, and Nezumi felt like one. “But I don’t know what to tell you, Shion. If you keep expecting me to be different, you’re going to be disappointed. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“That’s not true…. Maybe you just need some practice.” Shion twisted the sleeve of his coat. “You can practice on me. I promise not to cry when you fail.”

“Great,” Nezumi snorted. “Thanks.”

“Nezumi.”

Shion touched his knee. Nezumi tensed. It took everything in him not to push Shion away.

“You’ve been patient with me, in your own way. So I can be patient with you. I’m sorry I made you feel pressured. I won’t do that again.”

Nezumi grunted. He felt he should say something, but he couldn’t figure out what. This whole night had thrown him off-kilter.

He shifted so that Shion’s hand slipped off his knee and turned his face away. Only then could he think properly. “I don’t ever want to drink with you again,” he said.

“Yeah,” Shion sighed. “I don’t blame you. Excuse me.”

Shion stood, walked calmly across the room, and emptied his stomach out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	15. Leap Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! We survived another week in this hellhole known as 2020, so here’s another chapter for you all to enjoy! Thank you so much to everyone for your support on this fic. It means so much to us!

A few days later, Nezumi trudged down the empty streets of the town, hands shoved in his pockets. The crisp morning air tugged at his skin, warning him that a storm was approaching. He huddled down into his jacket for warmth. Leather wasn’t the wisest choice for cool weather, but Nezumi had owned it for so long it felt like an extension of himself.

Nezumi had woken up in a bad mood. He’d tossed and turned for the four hours allotted to him, wedged in that strange place between deep sleep and awareness. He’d listened to Shion shifting in the corner of the room, pensive and unnaturally quiet. Since the vodka incident, Shion seemed to have retreated into some deeper part of himself.

Nezumi didn’t know how to approach the topic with him. Shion’s drunken honesty a few nights back had jarred something loose inside him. There was a foul taste in his mouth that Nezumi blamed entirely on the vodka, which Nezumi had poured the remainder of out the window after Shion had finally trembled off to bed that horrible night. It seemed a waste, but the alcohol had proven to be a curse rather than a reprieve, and Nezumi was all too pleased to see it gone.

He could still feel the warm buzz echoing through his veins, a persistent reminder of the self-loathing that had shot through him when Shion started crying.

In his waking hours, Shion threw himself into practice. He didn’t talk about that night. He didn’t repeat the words that had tumbled over his lips once the vodka loosened them. Nezumi didn’t know if Shion even remembered their conversation―and that selfish part deep inside him hoped the alcohol had robbed Shion of that interaction.

The confined space coupled with Shion’s abnormal silence made Nezumi desperate for any manner of release. And so, when Shion dug through his backpack at sunrise and announced, “We’re down to our last bottle of water,” Nezumi volunteered to take a trip down to the town.

“Are you sure?” Shion asked, his eyes dark and vacant.

“Someone’s gotta do it, and I’m quicker than you.” Nezumi shrugged. “Besides, we don’t have any money, and I’m the only one who can get away with fake currency.”

“OK,” Shion replied, turning back to take inventory. The buttery sunlight slipped through the wooden slats, casting a beautiful glow that lit the ends of Shion’s hair as if the strands were on fire.

“Unless,” Nezumi said, quickly averting his gaze, “ _you’d_ like to give it a try. The attempt might be worth a good laugh.”

Nezumi had never treated survival as a joke. A failed attempt at pushing someone’s perception of reality could mean the difference between freedom and capture. But Nezumi felt a weight in the pit of his stomach, coiled like a miserable serpent that grew heavier the longer Shion went without the brightness in his eyes.

Shion’s lips quirked up at the sides. It wasn’t the reaction Nezumi had anticipated, but the painful tightness in his gut began to unclench.

“The best I could do would be to knock over their display cases and hope that distracted them long enough to make a getaway.” Shion shook his head. “And I’d probably trip on my way out.”

Shion told Nezumi that they had three granola bars, half the contents of the first aid kit, and a single bottle of water left. Water was more important than food in a pinch, but Nezumi hadn’t seen any freshwater springs closeby that he and Shion could use. He wasn’t sure he could trust that the water close to an industrial park would be safe for human consumption, anyway.

An early morning excursion meant it would be easier to avoid being spotted. The shops would be sleepy and the number of eyes watching out for him would be limited. He might have been able to blend into a crowd, but so could the Lab agents. It was better to be prepared.

And if he was being honest, Nezumi was grateful for the time alone. Shion’s drunken sobs kept echoing in his mind, in his waking hours and in his nightmares, the broken sound of his voice as he whimpered, “ _I miss my mom_.”

Nezumi had felt it like a punch to the stomach. It ached even now, hurting anew when Shion’s mood soured or his thoughts began to wander. Nezumi didn’t like it. It made him feel…bad. Nezumi wasn’t used to feeling bad about anything.

A week ago, Nezumi would have shouted at Shion to stop moping. The Lab wasn’t going to take itself down, and Nezumi had no use for Shion if he wasn’t going to try and get better. But the thought of raising his voice and watching those thin shoulders jolt up to Shion’s ears, watching the brief terror that flashed in his brown eyes before disappearing beneath irritation, made Nezumi feel sick.

Nezumi dragged his fingers through his hair. _What the hell’s wrong with me?_

He skirted around a corner. The town was compact and poorly patched together. The buildings were made of wood and stone, the paint faded and peeling. It was a dump, but there was something warm about it. Comfortable, Nezumi supposed some might call it, but a place where everyone knew everyone else’s business. Not a place Nezumi preferred to spend much time in.

On the corner of one of the streets was a gas station. Nezumi’s heart soared when he saw the lights on inside and a tiny ‘WE’RE OPEN’ sign taped on the glass door. His heavy boots thumped on the pavement as he crossed the empty street―no cars lining it, just open space with a peppering of garbage bins―and ducked inside.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee struck him in the face. Nezumi didn’t worry about time anymore, but he supposed the pale pinks and golds of the early morning should have assured him coffee would be an option.

As the door shut behind him, the little bell positioned above ringing its tune to announce his arrival, Nezumi was already scanning aisles. Chips and cookies and candy bars in an assortment of colorful wrappers stared back at him, parallel to a row of room-temperature soft drinks and other quick-grab items.

“Oh,” said a voice from the front of the store. Nezumi noted the source of the voice―a little old man tucked behind the front counter. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Nezumi said back, despite his foul mood. Ignoring the old man would be more suspicious than answering. It was easier to push his will into a willing mind than a suspicious one.

Nezumi’s fingers itched to grab as many things as he could grab. He’d taken the backpack with him. It clung to his back, empty and waiting to be filled with provisions. Nezumi’s pockets were stuffed with enough leaves to make for a convincing purchase. He’d worked on his cover story on his trip down the dirt road, practicing it over and over in his head so it would be easier to push the tale into someone’s mind.

Nezumi perused the selection, pretending to mull over a list of items he needed to purchase. He picked up a box of fabric Band-Aids, a travel-sized box of pain killer, and a tube of triple antibiotic. Later, after he’d become familiar with the layout of the town, Nezumi would locate a pharmacy and thoroughly restock the first-aid kit.

He snatched a packet of hair ties from the counter. Relief flooded through him. Nezumi hated wearing his hair down for any excessive duration of time. It made him feel vulnerable in a way he couldn’t place. His fingers itched to rip the pack open and yank his hair into a tight knot, but he controlled himself.

From the corner of his eye, Nezumi watched the store clerk behind the counter. He was a plump, middle-aged man with a simple expression and gentle eyes. He glanced up once as Nezumi drifted into view, but then he went back to counting the drawer. It seemed strange to watch him blatantly count money in full view of a customer. Nezumi supposed theft had never been much of a concern in a town such as this.

In some ways it was kind of nice. It should’ve been easy to just disappear in a town like this. And in small bursts, he assumed, it would be nice to just live like this.

But that was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Until the Lab fell to the ground at his feet, he couldn’t rest.

Nezumi drifted through the aisles, picking up as much as he felt he and Shion could use. He picked up a fistful of granola bars, four bags of potato chips he would be disappointed to discover were forty-five perfect air, and a few bottles of water. He gathered up protein bars, heaping them into the crook of his bent arm.

Once he’d gathered enough provisions to last him and Shion at least a couple more days, Nezumi made his way to the front of the store. If all went well, he and Shion would be able to sustain themselves through the winter with provisions from this town. Remaining stationary in the winter months was risky, but worth it. If Nezumi kept a low enough profile, he and Shion could hunker down until spring and then take off before the Lab managed to track them.

 _I’ll look for a restaurant later_ , Nezumi thought. _Or a diner. We can’t live off chips and granola bars all winter_. Nezumi had risked sitting down in a diner on a few occasions, and he imagined a town as small as this would likely have one.

“Find everything you were looking for, young man?” The elderly gentleman behind the register gave Nezumi a surprised look as he deposited his haul on the countertop.

“And then some,” Nezumi replied.

The old man picked up one of the granola bars and scanned it. “This is a lot of snacks. And so early in the morning! Are you planning a road trip?”

Nezumi drew his lips back in a pleasant smile. “A hike, actually. My friend and I wander around for hours, and it’s better to be over-fueled than under, y’know?”

The old man chuckled. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice. I remember those days.” He scanned the painkillers and gave Nezumi a sympathetic frown. “Headache?”

“It comes and goes,” Nezumi deadpanned. “I like to be prepared.”

The old man laughed. “Oh, I understand completely.” He finished scanning the items, and then turned to Nezumi with an expectant look. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Nezumi’s eyes scanned the rows of cigarettes just over the old man’s shoulders. He’d never been a smoker, though he’d tried it once. It had been one of the most disgusting things he’d ever put in his mouth, and Nezumi had messed with the minds of enough smokers to understand how the addiction took root and spread until the roots became difficult to remove. The momentary relief from stress the cigarettes supposedly caused was a temptation―but Nezumi shook his head and said, “No, thank you. I think I’ve got everything.”

“All right.” The old man announced the total, and then inquired about Nezumi’s form of payment.

“Cash, please.” Nezumi reached into his pocket, curling his fingers around the first leaf he felt, and reached out with his mind.

It was easy to convince the old man he was trustworthy based on their prior conversation. Nezumi had already built up a rapport with him, and it was nothing at all to twist the man’s thoughts into recognizing the leaf as a bill.

“Keep the change,” Nezumi replied, stuffing the provisions into the backpack. Ordinarily, he would have accepted bills handed back to him, but something held him back.

“You’re too kind.”

Nezumi grasped the zipper―and then he looked down at the display before him. Like most gas stations, the front counter was decorated with candy bars and small novelties. Nezumi had avoided picking up any candy because, while tasty, it didn’t last as long as he would have liked, especially in any sort of warmth, and it provided little nutritional value.

Nezumi’s eyes lingered on a plain milk chocolate bar. He and Shion had never discussed candy. He wasn’t even sure if Shion liked chocolate on its own. He supposed, working in a bakery, Shion must have _some_ manner of sweet tooth.

 _Whatever_. If Shion didn’t like it, then Nezumi could just eat it on his own.

Nezumi picked it up and asked, “Excuse me? Is it OK if I add this, too?”

The old man waved his hand. “Go right ahead. You’ve pretty much already paid for it. Now, go on. Have a nice trip! And good luck with your headache!”

“Thanks.” Nezumi turned and hurried to the door. The smell of coffee beans enticed him, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to carry a coffee all the way up to the warehouse. It would be cold by the time he got there.

Nezumi pressed his lips together, took a steadying breath, and plunged back out into the cool morning air.

**⁂**

While Nezumi was gone, Shion had stacked crates in the main room.

Shion was in the middle of dragging a large box across the floor, his hands hovering above it as he walked backward. The wooden bottom scraped the filthy floor as it inched along, guided by Shion’s will.

Nezumi slid in through the window with ease, landing silently on the ground. The cool air brushed the back of his neck. The moment he’d left the convenience store, Nezumi had torn the hair ties open and put his hair up. It made him feel normal again for the first time in days. The relief had overshadowed the dread of returning to the warehouse and dealing with Shion’s abnormal silence.

When Nezumi returned to the warehouse and didn’t see Shion waiting for him, momentary panic sparked in his chest. The sudden sounds of metal thumping from the next-door building had assured him Shion was close by, just practicing, but the lingering tension made Nezumi’s stomach tighten.

 _I’ve got to get this under control_. Nezumi watched quietly as Shion led the crate to the end of the assembly.

Several other wooden boxes had been rearranged and stacked in a series of short and tall stacks, three in total, a miniature mound seated in the dead center of the room. Shion had left the recently used firepit alone, but he’d stolen the cartons and used them to decorate his little piles. Nezumi didn’t think the teenagers would notice, provided the crates were returned to their prior locations.

Once Shion positioned the crate where he wanted it and stepped back, smacking his hands together, Nezumi gave a low whistle. “Good job.”

Shion turned and flashed him a brilliant smile. “Welcome back.” He trotted across the room, sidestepping the crates and skirting around the firepit. “How’s the haul?”

Nezumi slid the backpack off his shoulder and let it thump to the ground. “We have enough food and water to last us a few days. I’ll go back out and investigate the town later, see if there’s someplace we can get something hot to eat.” He gestured to the rearranged crates. “I’m more interested in what you’ve been up to. You did all of this with your mind?”

“Most of them.” Shion gestured to the smallest of the piles. “I started dragging those ones by hand, but then a spider crawled on my finger…and that put an end to that.”

Nezumi barked out a laugh.

Shion narrowed his eyes. “It’s not funny. Anyway, after that, I figured I should probably try and move them with my mind. It was easier than it was a few days ago.” He folded his hands together, his expression shifting from pensive to thoughtful. “It felt good to be able to do it. Almost like there was a weight lifted off my shoulders.”

“It gets easier with practice,” Nezumi affirmed. “You did well.”

Shion’s eyes lit up. “Thank you.”

“So, why the stacks?” Nezumi gave them a once-over. It was impressive that Shion had managed to lift the crates with enough precision to place them on top of each other. “Gonna try and put them all back?”

“In a moment.” Shion stepped backward and gestured to the mound in the center. “I had a thought while you were out.”

“Is that right?” Nezumi sunk down on one of the crates next to the fire pit. The used newspapers sat around his boots, the edges blackened and shredded. “Enlighten me.”

“So, I was thinking. I was able to stack the crates on my own terms, but when we’re dealing with a situation, I’ll need to be quicker, right?”

“That would be ideal, yes.”

“OK, so”―Shion clapped his hands together―“I was thinking that I would try and move the stacks as fast as possible. If there’s an incentive, then I should be able to do it.”

“Incentive?”

“Yep! I’m going to run at them as fast as I can and try to move them before I crash.”

Nezumi blinked.

Shion stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” Nezumi said after a moment. “Want to run that by me again?”

“I’m going to run at the crates,” Shion explained, pointing at the four piles. “And just before I get to them, I’ll have to move them out of the way―safely, of course―if I want to avoid crashing into them.”

“While I’m adoring the confidence,” Nezumi said cautiously, “you understand that you’re risking bodily harm if you aren’t successful, right?”

“Well, then I better not mess up.”

Nezumi pinched the bridge of his nose. He was grateful he’d picked up the painkillers. The beginnings of a headache formed above his left eyebrow. “Shion, look. I’m impressed you were able to move the crates. It’s a hell of a lot farther than you’ve come before. But this is reckless, and we don’t have a way to fix it if you get seriously injured.”

“We have a first aid kit.”

“Which won’t mean shit,” Nezumi snapped, “if you break a bone.”

Shion shifted from one foot to the other. “How about this? If I don’t think I can move the crates before I crash into them, I’ll do my best to stop? And if I get injured, then that’s on me.”

Nezumi closed his eyes and took a sharp breath. The weight in the pit of his stomach clenched. “This is stupid. You can’t just do reckless bullshit―”

“The safe way isn’t always an option, right?”

Nezumi's words died on his tongue.

Shion looked back at him, a calm expression on his face. His dark brown eyes glimmered in the dim light, dust motes dancing in the air around him. “We’re being chased,” Shion murmured. “We’re trying to practice as much as we can on our own terms, but it’s not always going to be that way. What if we get cornered again? We might be able to escape, but we could get injured. And I can’t always rely on things going exactly the way I want.”

The edges of Nezumi’s vision had begun to turn gray. His hands trembled, and he curled them into fists to try and steady them.

“I promise I’ll try not to get injured,” Shion whispered. “And if I do, then…you can leave me. If I get hurt, that’s my fault. If you leave me behind, I’ll understand. I’m with you through this, Nezumi, but if you’re at risk of getting captured because of me, I’ll understand.”

“Don’t be stupid!” The words burst from Nezumi’s throat before he could cage them behind his teeth. “You think I’ve gone through all this trouble teaching you just to dump you later? _Hell no_. You’ve been making some pretty flowery promises since the moment you became part of this, Shion. And I intend for you to fulfill them.”

Shion’s dark eyes lightened. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Well, then I better not mess up.”

Nezumi’s heart pounded behind his rib cage. “No.” His voice trembled at the edges. Nezumi hated it. “You’d better not.”

Shion trotted to the other side of the room, and Nezumi sank down on the crate. He dug his fingers into his knees to keep them from shaking. This whole thing was idiotic. Shion might have made some valid points, but Nezumi felt like an idiot for going along with it.

 _Stupid_. He watched Shion do a few stretches, rolling his shoulders and jumping back and forth to loosen up his legs. _Absolutely stupid_.

“OK!” Shion shouted. He clapped his hands together, a manic determination in his tone and in his appearance that Nezumi hadn’t seen before. It made his chest tighten with anxiety. “Ready, set, _go!_ ”

“Wait―” Nezumi called, springing to his feet, but Shion took off like a bullet towards the smallest of the crate piles.

Nezumi’s heart hammered as Shion’s sneakers thumped along the concrete floor, kicking up dust in his wake. He wasn’t the quickest person Nezumi had ever seen, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away as Shion pumped his arms and dashed toward the crates.

A determined look plastered itself on Shion’s face. The crates approached. Nezumi’s mouth went dry as Shion quickly closed the distance―

And then, just as Shion’s foot was about to connect with the side of the bottom crate, the two composing the mound lifted into the air as if plucked up by large hands and were set down again as Shion ran beneath them and continued on his way.

Nezumi’s knees almost gave out.

Shion banked to the left, angling himself toward the next pile of crates. They rose into the air just as he was about to collide with them, only this time, they were set delicately off to the side of the room. The slap of Shion’s sneakers against the concrete was the only sound in the warehouse aside from the thundering of Nezumi’s heart and the rumbling in his ears.

Nezumi’s palms stung, and it was only then that he realized he’d been digging his nails into his skin. He unclenched them, eight little crescents embedded in his flesh.

He watched Shion sprint around the warehouse room, staying between the mound of crates. He skirted around the fire pit, the motion kicking up the debris and casting little shreds of paper and ash into the air. Shion stepped up on one of the crates, hopping over it, and then landing on the other side with a muted thump.

He turned, looked at the pile―and before Nezumi’s eyes, all of them rose into the air above his head, forming a wooden canopy that sent dark shadows over Shion’s features.

Nezumi could only see the crates slipping from Shion’s invisible grasp, tumbling down on top of him and crushing his bones―but Shion jerked his chin toward the corner of the warehouse, and the crates that had made up the piles traveled in the direction Shion looked. Two of them dragged across the ground, but at least three of them hovered in the air as Shion placed them in the corner.

And then, as quickly as it began, it ended.

Once the crates had been settled down, Shion turned toward Nezumi. His face was flushed, and his chest rose and fell with exertion.

His heavy breathing lanced through the roaring in Nezumi’s skull. The eerie silence left behind in the wake of the crates settling on the ground crushed down on his shoulders like a pressing weight; his spine ached with the sensation of it.

“I did it,” Shion gasped. He sounded dumbfounded.

Nezumi’s lips trembled.

“I… I _did_ it.” Shion lifted his head, his eyes wide.

Nezumi took a staggering step forward, and then Shion was running towards him.

There were less than fifty feet of distance between them. Nezumi wasn’t certain when he started running, or how long it took him and Shion to close the distance between them.

Shion threw his arms open, shouting, “Nezumi! It worked―it actually worked!”

Nezumi caught him around the waist.

Shion’s arms wrapped around Nezumi’s shoulders. His face landed on Nezumi’s shoulder, and he squealed happily into Nezumi’s leather jacket.

Nezumi laughed. His arms tightened around Shion’s waist. The tremors in the air around them snapped and surged, as if the world itself had been charged with electricity. Nezumi could feel it dancing down his fingertips, rocking through him as he clutched Shion’s trembling body against him and listened to the combined sound of their laughter.

Shion lifted his face from Nezumi’s shoulder. His face was flushed, his lips drawn back in the widest, most brilliant smile Nezumi had ever seen. Sunlight shone in his eyes. Warmth danced through the nerve endings in Nezumi’s body as he looked down into Shion’s smiling face.

Hope rattled through Nezumi, pulled from the depths of his spirit for the first time in years. He felt it like a shot of adrenaline. The aches in his muscles vanished. The stress headache drifted into the shadows. The nightmares that bled into his mind’s eye shrieked and retreated at the realization that there was a chance now.

Shion’s eyes locked with Nezumi’s. He hadn’t noticed before, but there were little flecks of gold peppered throughout the iris. Little treasures embedded in a sea of chocolate brown, droplets of true power peeking through to assure Nezumi that things would be all right. For the first time in a long time, there was nothing to fear.

Nezumi didn’t know who moved first. A comfortable haze settled over him as he exhaled―and then his and Shion’s lips brushed.

It was feather-light and quick. Nezumi felt the soft bump of Shion’s lower lip against his own, a light pressure that jolted through him.

Shion lingered there for just a moment, stunned to immobility. He pulled back, gently, and the surprised look that crossed his face sent a pang through Nezumi’s stomach.

 _No_. Nezumi’s hands tightened around Shion’s waist. _Wait, no, don’t_. Shion’s flushed face went an even darker shade of red as he registered what had happened. He opened his mouth and said, “Nezumi, I’m sorry, I don’t―”

Nezumi tipped his head forward, pressing his lips more firmly against Shion’s.

Shion went still beneath him, just long enough for Nezumi to wonder if he’d made a mistake. His stomach rolled―and then Shion exhaled against him and relaxed in his arms.

It lasted only a moment.

Nezumi and Shion drew back. They lingered close together, arms locked around each other, their breath intermingling as they remained in their shared moment, warm and alive for the first time in a long time.

And then it hit Nezumi like a shock of lightning.

His hands wrenched away from Shion’s waist as if he’d been burned. Shion’s arms unlocked from his shoulders, and Nezumi scurried back to put a sizable distance between them.

“You―” Nezumi cleared his throat. His face stung, his vision tunneling until all he could see was Shion’s flushed, confused expression. “You did good! Really good. Proud of you.”

“Oh,” Shion said. “Um. Yeah, thank you.”

“Better.” Nezumi’s hands twitched, and he struggled to figure out what to do with them. He could still feel the scratch of Shion’s jacket beneath his fingertips. “You’ve got crates down. Now we just have to work on the locks.”

Shion gripped the hem of his jacket. “Right. I’ll, um, I’ll work on that next.”

“Great.” Nezumi reached one hand back and fumbled with his ponytail. It had come a bit loose. He tightened it, grateful for something to do with his hands. “That’s great.” He looked at the ground, the debris, and then to the window. Anywhere but at the look of confusion quickly spreading across Shion’s face. “Locks. We have to get those locks down.”

“Yes.”

Nezumi spun around and scooped the backpack from the ground. “Chocolate! I got a chocolate bar. You did well, so you can have it. You like chocolate, right?”

“Yeah, I… I do.”

“ _Great_.” Nezumi quickly hurried across the room. “Let’s go back to our—the other warehouse. Don’t want to be here when the teenagers come back. We’ll practice again tomorrow. You did enough for today.”

Nezumi didn’t look back. His stomach tightened as if he was about to be sick, the coiled serpent returning. Only this time, the serpent struck upward and sunk its fangs into Nezumi’s heart as he heard Shion murmur behind him, “Yeah... Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	16. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday and Happy Holidays to you all! Here we are with another chapter of _Beyond the Horizon!_ We hope you all enjoy it, and that you're all staying warm and happy and safe this holiday season!

Nezumi couldn’t sleep.

He was used to insomnia—life on the road practically necessitated it—but his restless mind tonight had nothing to do with fear of attack and everything to do with the boy sitting not ten feet from where he lay.

Shion had silently taken watch fifteen minutes ago. The confusion rolling off him had prickled Nezumi’s skin, but Nezumi refused to meet his eyes or broach the subject of what happened in the other warehouse. Shion must have known better than to ask, but Nezumi could feel the weight of his stare burning the back of his neck.

He wanted to rewind time. Go back to earlier this morning when he was shopping in the little convenience store and contemplating the cool morning. Everything was simple then. Or... Well, OK, not _simple_ , as two superpowered teens running from a megalomaniac pharmaceutical company was far from everyday, but it was at least _familiar_. Routine.

Now everything was a mess.

 _He kissed me._ Nezumi’s stomach performed a nauseating backflip. _I kissed_ him. His cheeks heated. _Damn it._ Nezumi tried to inconspicuously pull his threadbare blanket up to hide his face from the night.

This wasn’t what he needed right now. Nezumi had always prided himself on being more mature than your average teen. Getting caught up in the moment and kissing the boy you lived with, without thinking of the consequences, was the epitome of teenage stupidity. That he and Shion would have to talk about the incident was unavoidable, but Nezumi was determined to put it off until the very last second.

How was he supposed to talk to Shion about it when he didn’t know what to say?

Nezumi was not innocent. He had kissed people before, and even done more than that, but those instances were always under the understanding that it was a distraction only. He had barely known his other partners. The relationships were transient, casual and lasting only as long as he could stay in one place.

But Shion was not some boy he had picked up outside the laundromat. Over the last few weeks, he had gotten to know Shion well. He was quick-witted, easy tempered, brave, and now powerful and newly self-possessed. He was a good balance to Nezumi’s surly, paranoid temperament, and Nezumi hadn’t felt so at ease in another’s presence in years. He trusted Shion to watch his back, and he enjoyed their conversations. Despite his stubborn refusals and rebuffs, Nezumi liked Shion.

But did his liking translate to romance?

His subconscious mind seemed to think so, seeing as he had kissed himself into this situation. But since the slip-up, Nezumi’s rational mind hadn’t stopped listing all the reasons getting involved with Shion was a bad idea.

 _I hate this._ Nezumi wanted to throw a tantrum on the floor, or stomp around in the cold dark of the woods. Something—anything—to dispel the restless energy building in his limbs.

“Nezumi?” Shion’s voice was soft and sad, and it sent shivers down his spine. “Are you still awake?”

Nezumi stared resolutely at the crusty concrete wall.

“...I think you are. You don’t have to say anything; just listen. OK?”

Shion shifted behind him. Nezumi tensed, but nothing happened and the air was still and quiet for a moment.

“I know that you’re a private person,” Shion began, “and that it’s hard for you to get close to people. With the life you’ve had up until now, it makes sense that you wouldn’t trust many and you wouldn’t want to form attachments, since the Lab is dangerous, and you’re never sure when you’ll have to pick up and run again.”

Shion spoke so slowly, as if he were sorting through a basket of words and painstakingly picking those that were the most understanding, the most soothing, the least likely to cause backlash. It was excruciating. Nezumi’s muscles ached from keeping still, and his brain pounded from the discipline of accepting Shion’s halting analysis of his character. He expected a confession any moment now, and dread pooled in his stomach.

“I understand that. And I know you’re probably feeling conflicted and confused right now. What happened earlier was…” Shion paused. His voice lost some of its steadiness. “It surprised me too. I wasn’t planning on—” He shifted again, and cleared his throat. “We definitely got caught up in the moment and it just happened. But I— I’ll be honest, Nezumi. I liked it.”

And here, Shion’s voice picked up force and speed. “And I can’t say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind before. I’ve never met anyone like you, Nezumi. You’re strong, and brave, and intelligent, and so sarcastic it hurts sometimes, but I’ve learned so much from you. I’ve learned more about myself and what I’m capable of in the last week than I ever thought possible. I’m so grateful to you, and I—I like you. I like being with you, even if it can be dangerous sometimes. And I can control my powers now, so I won’t bring you down when it _does_ get dangerous. I’m not going anywhere—I’m going to be with you until the end, until we take down Horizon Labs—so you don’t have to worry about leaving me behind, and… Um...”

Shion’s words tumbled out now with barely a breath, running so swiftly that Nezumi would lose the thread if his attention lapsed for even a moment. But his mind was singularly focused on Shion’s voice. The nighttime sounds were a faraway memory, the cool touch of the winter air insignificant against the burning in his veins and the sweat trickling down his back.

“But,” Shion said, voice trembling again, “I don’t know how you feel, or what you want, and I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything you’re not comfortable with. So, if you would rather pretend like we didn’t kiss, I can try to… I’ll do my best to not bring it up, or let it affect our relationship until you’re ready to talk about it. If you want to talk about it. But I really think we should talk about it,” Shion finished quietly.

Nezumi squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled through his nose. He sat up and turned to Shion. The other boy’s face was beet red, but he managed somehow to color more when Nezumi met his eyes.

“Shion,” Nezumi very nearly sighed. “You’re talking an awful lot for someone who’s not trying to apply pressure.”

“Sorry,” Shion mumbled. “But since you’re up now, do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Shion shrunk and averted his face, and Nezumi clenched his jaw against the gnawing guilt in his stomach. Liking someone was the deepest circle of hell.

“But I will,” Nezumi forced out. “Since it’s obvious you’re not going to be able to act normal until we do.”

“I don’t think we need to, actually.”

Nezumi couldn’t speak past the anger and disbelief for a moment. “Are you serious?” The words came out as a combination of a scoff and a laugh. “You go on that tangent about your feelings, begging me over and over to talk about mine, and now you don’t want to hear it? What the hell, Shion?”

“It’s obvious you don’t feel the same,” Shion snapped.

It was the bitterest he had ever sounded. The image of Shion, drunk and crying, rose unbidden to Nezumi’s mind. The shame was crippling. Nezumi’s heart begged him to stop this. But how could he stop it? If he kept shutting Shion down and denying the kiss meant anything, he would hurt him, perhaps irrevocably. But if he spoke honestly about his feelings and confessed what a mess he was… Nezumi didn’t know. He didn’t even know where to start. Nezumi didn’t know who he was without armor.

“You shouldn’t have kissed me, Nezumi, if you were going to act like this.”

“You kissed me first!”

Nezumi’s voice was a snarl. He couldn’t control it. He was angry, _so_ _fucking angry_ —at the universe for giving him this crappy lot; at Shion for liking him despite everything he was; at himself for being warped and wrong and not at all worthy.

“Yes, I did!” Shion yelled back. “And I tried to apologize and pull away, but then you grabbed me and kissed me back! And now you’re acting like it’s _my_ fault for wanting to understand why. Like it’s _my_ fault that you’re too much of a coward to deal with your emotions!”

Nezumi flinched. He felt like he’d been slapped. The fire in Shion’s eyes sputtered. His flushed face drained of color in less than a breath.

“I’m sorry.” Shion’s voice cracked. “I can’t do this.”

He rose and headed for the stairs.

Nezumi shot up after him. If he let Shion go now, he knew they would never recover.

“Wait.” He grabbed Shion's wrist, but Shion tore his arm away. Nezumi raced down the stairs after him. “Shion, wait. _Please_.”

Shion stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and Nezumi’s chest flooded with relief. He jumped down the last two steps.

When Shion met his eyes, Nezumi’s voice lodged in his throat. Shion’s face was dark, desolate, tired. He wore the expression of someone who had shouldered a weight too long, and was one ill-placed word away from throwing it off his shoulders and abandoning it forever. Everything in his body language was an ultimatum.

“Shion, I…”

Nezumi’s breath trembled. His hands fisted and unfisted at his sides, desperate to soothe his harried nerves with constant, controlled motion.

“I’m fucked up, OK?” he blurted. “I’m a complete fucking mess, and every time you speak, or smile at me, or laugh, you remind me that I’m messed up, and I—I can’t stand it. And I take it out on you, because that’s easier than facing it. I know that’s not a good excuse, but I… You’re right. I’m… I’m afraid. I’m afraid of you, Shion.”

The light in Shion’s eyes flickered, and the edges of his expression softened into something less surly and more contemplative. Nezumi’s heart pounded so fast he felt like he might explode, or faint, or, worse, fall back on saying something nasty and untrue just to escape the discomfort. But what he was saying now was working, and he was loath to squash the glimmer of hope kindling between them. So for the first time in his life, Nezumi ignored logic and acted out of feeling.

“I’m not used to people—especially not people like you. I’m not used to having someone around to call me on my bullshit and ask me why I do the things I do, and who makes me feel like the shitty person I am.”

Shion’s eyes widened. “I’m not—”

“Shion, no. Be quiet. I need to finish.” Nezumi huffed. He was exhausted after talking so much and making so little sense. _Is this how Shion feels all the time?_

“I wasn’t thinking when I kissed you. I did it because I wanted to. I don’t know why, I don’t know what I want. I don’t even know what the hell I’m saying right now, but I just keep talking, because I don’t want you to walk away. I don’t want to lose you.”

Nezumi’s heart jumped. His mouth had moved faster than his mind, and the words shocked him with their truth. He didn’t want to lose Shion. It wasn’t because he needed him to take down the Lab, or because he was lonely, or guilty about tearing Shion away from his happy inconsequential life.

He wanted Shion by his side because he had grown important to him. Because he didn’t want to go back to a life without him.

Shion appeared to feel all the impact of the confession. His anger had evaporated, and only wide-eyed surprise remained.

“You mean it?” he asked.

Nezumi swallowed and swallowed again. “Yes.”

Shion blinked rapidly, his gaze darting around the room, his hands fidgeting at his sides. Nezumi couldn’t believe that Shion could be so flustered now—it was his bold, impassioned words that brought them here.

“What are people like me?”

“...What?”

Shion stared at the ground, picking at his nails. “You said you aren’t used to people like me. What does that mean?” He glanced up through his lashes.

The blush had returned to Shion’s cheeks, and Nezumi felt warm all over. This was good. Everything was good now.

Except Shion wanted him to confess. Actually confess, like a mature person who was not afraid of his feelings. _Shit. Fuck. I don’t think I can do this._

“Um…” Um. He actually said “um.” Nezumi hadn’t used that word in his entire life. He was not a mumbler or stumbler like Shion.

Except, apparently, he was now. Having recognized feelings for Shion was already changing him.

“You’re brave,” Nezumi managed. It was the easiest truth to give because it was the opposite of how he felt at the moment. “You talk too much, but you always mean well. It’s because you care. Sometimes too much, to the point of being annoying—”

Shion raised his eyebrows, and Nezumi stopped himself. He was sweating, despite the chill.

“You’re not me, Shion,” Nezumi said. “I think that covers it, right? You’re kind, and you bounce back quickly, and you smile more than any human has any right to, and if you’re as merciful as I think you are, you will let me stop talking.”

Shion laughed and threw his arms around Nezumi’s neck.

Nezumi had not been hugged in many years, and yet here he was, hugged for the second time in one day. His mind still held some fuzzy reservations about everything that was happening between him and Shion, but his body couldn’t help but warm at the contact. Shion’s waist was soft beneath Nezumi’s hands, his fingers cool at the nape of his neck. Nezumi shivered and pulled him closer. Shion made a small, happy noise in the back of his throat.

They broke away, both flushed and a little shy.

“We’re good now?” Nezumi said after a moment.

“Mm.” Shion smiled and scuffed his shoe against the ground. “I don’t want to lose you either, Nezumi.”

Nezumi cleared his throat. “Let’s not talk about that.”

“Why? I thought it was a good confession.”

“Shion.”

“OK, OK,” Shion laughed and took hold of Nezumi’s hand. 

He looked absurdly proud to claim it, and Nezumi privately swore never to lose the privilege.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	17. Roadblock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! I can't believe it's almost 2021, and I'm sure everyone's just eager for this new year to be better and less stressful than 2020 has been. Here's to another chapter of _Beyond the Horizon_ , and I hope you all enjoy it!

For the first time in his life, Shion understood how it felt to fly.

The terror of plummeting―leaping from the safety of familiar ground and soaring downward in a fatal nosedive, spinning out of control and unable to anticipate when the jagged rocks below would come―vanished as a weightlessness overcame him, filling his heart with warmth that made every nerve in his body tingle.

Shion wasn’t a singer, but he felt like throwing his head back and sharing his happiness with the world. The days had begun to grow shorter, the shadows of twilight arriving earlier and earlier as time went on, but his world had never seemed so bright.

_I’m happy_. Shion could feel it in his bones, splintering through his blood and circulating through every cell that composed his being.

It had been nearly two weeks since Nezumi had finally come out from his shell. Part of Shion had feared that his brutal honesty would drive Nezumi away, plunging a wedge between them they would never recover from. Instead, Nezumi had removed his armor and bared his soul, granting Shion the honor of having his heart.

The crisp morning air kissed Shion’s cheeks as he and Nezumi walked down the sidewalk. It was Shion’s first time venturing into the town below the site of their warehouse, and part of him felt like a kid in a candy store.

The town was small and rundown. The buildings were worn and clustered together, and the streets were marked with potholes. Despite the wear and tear on the outside, the little town had charm, like something caught in the middle of time. It was an old, sequestered place that hadn’t been touched by the outside world.

Their rations were running low. They’d eaten through the bags of chips, the granola bars, and had worked their way through the bottles of water. Even limiting their portions, the food hadn’t lasted as long as Shion hoped it would. His little backpack grew lighter and lighter until one morning he’d opened it up and counted only two granola bars and a single bottle of spring water.

Shion hadn’t anticipated Nezumi letting Shion go into town with him. Nezumi hadn’t let him come along before, shaking his head and saying, “Nah, I’m quicker on my own.”

But Shion had been hopeful that Nezumi might allow him to tag along this time. The shifts in their relationship had made him confident that Nezumi would want his company, and Shion’s new sense of control over his abilities made him certain that Nezumi would view him as an asset rather than a liability.

And so that morning, when Shion said, “I’d like to go with you into town,” his heart sang when Nezumi replied, “OK.”

The backpack sat between Shion’s shoulder blades as he and Nezumi strolled down the sidewalk. The midmorning sunlight sliced through the frigid snap drifting through the air, settling in his bones. With autumn quickly slipping by and winter fast approaching, a threatening chill had built up, lancing through Shion’s haze of happiness when the nights drifted on.

He tried not to think about it right now. As he walked through the town, he focused on the stone and wood buildings, the signs above the small shops, and the feeling of Nezumi’s fingers curled around his own.

Anxious butterflies danced in Shion’s stomach, and electricity snapped through his blood. His head buzzed with happiness, and the warmth of Nezumi’s skin against his own calmed him when his nerves began to flare.

Shion hadn’t thought Nezumi would take his hand when he offered it, simply because there were prying eyes in the town. It was small, certainly, but the town had a population. Thousands of eyes who could spot them, identify them, turn them over if the right people came snooping around.

But when he felt the soft scratch of calluses against his pinkie, Shion’s hand instinctively opened and welcomed Nezumi’s palm against his own.

“It’s pretty,” Shion remarked, the first words he’d spoken since they left the warehouse more than half an hour ago.

Nezumi clicked his tongue. “It’s small.”

“So was Lost Town.”

Nezumi’s silver eyes flashed as he glanced over at Shion. “Lost Town wasn’t pretty, either.”

A few weeks ago, a comment like that would have shoved Shion back into the cage of thorns and glass that came every time he thought of his mother.

A swell of longing came now, but only for a moment before the warmth snuffed it out. Shion shook his head and said, “OK, you’ve got me there.”

“We’re working with what we’ve got.” Nezumi rounded one of the corners, guiding Shion along. He’d scoped out the town a bit in his previous run for supplies, but Shion was pleased to realize that Nezumi was keeping pace with him rather than dragging him along.

It felt like something had settled between them―an understanding that they were finally on the same page, standing shoulder-to-shoulder rather than one person taking the reins and steering the whole operation over the cliff’s edge.

“Is there a diner in this town?” Shion asked. “We should probably consider what we’ll do for food when the temperature drops.”

“We’ll stock up. For now, let’s just focus on the essentials.”

Shion looked up as they walked past a closed flower shop. The dusty windows and rusted ‘WE’RE CLOSED’ sign informed him the store had been out of business for some time, even though he could see faded curtains in the apartment upstairs. He wondered if someone lived there and what would become of the now-vacant space beneath them.

From a young age, Shion had dreamed of opening a bakery. He knew he would likely spend the rest of his life working alongside his mother, running her shop after it became too hard for her to manage on her own. But the daydreams Shion had when he sat on his bed at night, listening to the thumping of his heart and wishing things were better, created a bakery of his own design.

Horizon Labs needed to be stopped. Shion understood that. Now that the blinders had been removed, he understood there were shadows in the world he could eradicate. The Lab was a blister on the world, and it would transform into an infection and ruin more lives if he didn’t do all he could to bring it to its knees.

Shion hadn’t voiced it aloud, but sometimes he wondered what would happen when the Lab was destroyed. He and Nezumi had crossed a threshold, tumbling into a relationship that was equal parts complex and exciting. But Shion wondered about the future. Once the Lab was no longer a looming threat, what would become of them? What would their futures look like, and could it be possible for the dreams Shion had dismissed as fantasies to come to life?

_I can move mountains_ , Shion thought. _I could tip the world off its axis if I wanted. Surely opening my own bakery isn’t some pipe dream_.

“Shion.”

He jolted out of his thoughts.

Nezumi lifted their connected hands and gave Shion a blank stare. It took a moment before Shion recognized the tension in his own fingers, noticing the whiteness of his knuckles.

“Wanna loosen your grip there, killer?”

“Oh!” Shion yanked his hand back to his chest as if he’d been burned. The charms on his bracelet clanged against each other. “Sorry! I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

Nezumi flexed his fingers. “Well, you’re a bit stronger than I thought you were.”

Shion winced.

“While I appreciate the show of strength, going forward, could we try not to break my hand?” The sharp edge in Nezumi’s voice let Shion know he was annoyed, but there was a lightness there that hadn’t been a few weeks ago.

“I’m sorry,” Shion said. “I was spacing out.”

“Breaking news.” Nezumi’s expression softened, just a bit. “Something on your mind?”

“Not really.” Shion didn’t feel like souring the mood. He and Nezumi had come so far in such a short time, but Shion still felt like there were certain topics that edged toward dangerous territory. “Just thinking about winter.”

Nezumi raised an eyebrow, and Shion hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. The idea of Nezumi opening a bakery with him, staying with him long after this whole ordeal had concluded, was a wonderful fantasy―but that was all it could be for now. If Shion clung too close to it, his heart would break into a thousand irreparable pieces if it fell apart.

“Sure,” Nezumi said. “Anyway, we’re here.”

He gestured to the building, and Shion’s embarrassment spiked as he realized he hadn’t even noticed that they’d arrived at their destination.

The gas station blended into the rest of the town, but Shion could tell it was perhaps the most active business in the place. The pumps were new, and the windows were clean and bright.

Shion’s heart hammered. It had been a while since he’d stepped into a public building. Part of him had grown accustomed to the comfortable hovel of their warehouse, the training grounds they’d transformed the secondary warehouse into, and the view of the town just beyond the cracks in their boarded windows.

Nezumi seemed to pick up on his anxiety. “This won’t take long. Just a quick restock, and then we’ll head back. Don’t want to draw too much attention, yeah?”

“Right.” Shion clenched and unclenched his fingers.

“Relax.” Nezumi nudged Shion’s shoulder. “This is going to be easy.”

**⁂**

The moment the door shut behind them, Nezumi quickly surveyed the other occupants in the shop. In the back, near the refrigerated items, he spotted an elderly woman reading the nutrition facts on a bottle of orange juice. She didn’t glance up as the bell announced a new arrival, and the lack of tension in her posture assured Nezumi she was no one of consequence.

Behind the counter, a middle-aged woman was busy organizing the display shelves of cigarettes and cigars. She had her back turned to the shop, and didn’t even glance over as Shion and Nezumi filed through the door. Nezumi wondered if she was the daughter of the man he’d seen running the shop the last time he’d ventured out.

“I’ll grab the water,” Shion said. He glanced over at the coffee counter, where the dispensers sat in a neat little line next to a stack of to-go paper coffee cups. “How many bottles do we need?”

“At least six.” Nezumi narrowed his eyes. “Six large ones, if you can.”

“OK.”

Nezumi jerked his chin toward the coffee. “Get a cup, if you want. We can afford it.”

Shion’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

“Sure, why not?”

Shion’s expression was bright. “Do you want any juice or anything?”

“No. It’s all sugar. No real substance.”

Shion’s smile dropped for just a moment, but he quickly realized that Nezumi was right and said, “OK. I’ll get the water, you grab the food.”

Nezumi watched as Shion drifted down the aisles. There was a little hop in his step, and he seemed excited to be outside of the warehouse and back in society.

A sudden pang shot through Nezumi’s chest, making him feel nauseous. He shook it away and tried to focus on the task at hand. There wasn’t any time to focus on the negatives. They needed rations, and they needed them quickly. The sooner they got what they needed and retreated to the warehouse, the sooner Nezumi would feel better.

He gathered as many protein bars and granola bars as he could fit in the crook of his arm. A few bags of chips made their way into his grasp, but he steered away from excess sugars and lack of substance. Protein was necessary to survive the approaching winters. He and Shion would worry about procuring warm food later, once it became a necessity.

Nezumi glanced up and saw Shion pulling bottles of water from the refrigerated aisle. He had them tucked in the crook of his arm, pressing them tight against his chest. He moved quickly, grabbing them with purpose.

The old woman in the same aisle glanced over at Shion, and Nezumi’s heart clenched. From where he stood, he could see the woman watching Shion closely, as if she were trying to pick out where she’d seen his face before.

Nezumi’s fingers flexed, a nervous habit he hadn’t realized he’d had until Shion came along. Nezumi felt self-conscious, hyper aware of every movement he made. He narrowed his eyes, wanting to reach out and pick through the old woman’s mind and locate the source of her fascination. If he could switch it off before she turned her attention to _him_ , he could stop a potential disaster.

But the woman turned back to her own shopping, and Shion hurried over to Nezumi with a satisfied smile on his face.

Nezumi’s shoulders tensed as Shion came up to his side, and before Shion opened his mouth and drew attention to them, Nezumi sent, : _That woman was staring at you._ :

Shion’s smile dropped. He glanced quickly over his shoulder―Nezumi flinched at the lack of subtlety―and then over to Nezumi. His eyes were wide, terror written across his face.

: _I don’t know if she recognized you_.: Nezumi watched the old woman as she meandered down the aisle, not turning to look back at them. It didn’t look suspicious, but Nezumi wasn’t about to get cornered. : _Let’s go before this place is crawling with agents_.:

Shion’s spine straightened.

Nezumi nudged Shion’s shin with his boot.

They hurried up to the counter, Nezumi advising Shion to stay calm to avoid raising further suspicion, and placed their purchases on the ledge.

The woman behind the counter glanced over her shoulder. Her blue eyes caught in the LED lights above her head, and among the coiled strands of her bright blonde hair, Nezumi could make out the dark brown of her roots.

“You all set?” She took one look at Shion and Nezumi, scrutinizing their messy hair and unkempt clothing, and wrinkled her nose.

: _Let me handle this. Keep your head down_.:

Shion lowered his face, as if he was shy, and Nezumi put a pleasant smile on his face. “Yep, this is everything, ma’am.”

She began scanning the waters, and Nezumi realized she didn’t have a nametag on. The quick blips of the scanner pierced through the silence in the rest of the shop.

“A lot of water for just the two of you.” The woman gave Shion a sharp look. His hunched shoulders and lowered gaze made him appear frail and nervous.

“Planning to be outside for a while, ma’am,” Nezumi replied, shifting her attention from Shion and back to him. “Need to stay hydrated.”

The woman’s lips screwed up into a disinterested scowl. Her body language, thankfully, didn’t display suspicion, but rather, disgust. Nezumi could work with disgust. If this woman thought he and Shion were homeless, he would work with it. Teenagers on the streets were nothing new, and hopefully this woman would think they were simply unfortunate drifters rather than kids on the run. Nezumi hoped they were unassuming enough to escape her mind the moment they left the building.

“Anything else?” the woman asked.

“No, ma’am.” Nezumi reached into his jacket pocket. “Is cash all right?”

The woman’s aggravation was palpable, but Nezumi was surprised she didn’t sigh. Nezumi reached into his pockets and peered into the woman’s blue eyes.

He focused on the flecks of brown around her pupils, the streaks of red in her sclera. As he pulled the leaves from his pockets, holding them carefully between his fingers, Nezumi Reached out and urged his will into the cashier’s mind, slipping into her frontal lobe and reshaping the roundness of the leaves into the sharp four corners of a paper bill, and lightened the color from rich green to the pale purple and gold of currency―

“Um, sir?” The woman raised her hand, clutching one of the “bills” in her manicured red nails, and said, “These are leaves.”

Nezumi lifted his head. His concentration broke, but that didn’t matter. The wall around the woman’s mind deflected Nezumi’s Reach, and the mental illusion he’d been crafting vanished in the air between them.

“Oh!” Nezumi said. He pried his hands away from the counter, leaving the few leaves between him and the cashier, and tried to laugh. “Oh, dear. Did I bring leaves again?”

Shion’s shoulders tensed.

The cashier tapped her finger on the ledge. She didn’t look impressed.

“I’d forget my own head if it wasn’t attached.” Nezumi thumped his fist against the side of his head and then rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he looked sheepish and forgetful rather than the piss-poor thief he was. “Thought I grabbed my cash before I left home today. Silly me!”

: _We’re fucked_ ,: Nezumi sent, feeling Shion tensing at his side. There was a faint current in the air between them, crackling through the shop as the stress rose. Shion had gained a new semblance of control, but Nezumi hoped it was good enough to get them out of this situation. : _I can’t convince her. We need to create a diversion_.:

Shion took a step back, tucking in behind Nezumi, and Nezumi wondered if he’d knock over one of the shelves or maybe shatter the glass on one of the refrigerated cases. As soon as the cashier rushed from behind the counter to investigate the mess, Nezumi would grab the rations, as many as he could carry, and then he and Shion would duck out.

: _We won’t be able to come back for a while_ ,: Nezumi told Shion. : _I don’t know if there’s cameras here, but I don’t see any. Probably can’t afford them. So as long as we don’t come back when she works, we can―_ :

“Um, excuse me?”

Nezumi looked over. The old woman had crossed the shop and stood next to Shion. She was thin and short, and now that Nezumi could see her face clearly, he could make out the laugh lines around her eyes and lips. She looked friendly and unassuming, and as she looked at them, Nezumi could make out a faint shimmer of warmth in her brown irises.

“I feel your pain.” The old woman gave Nezumi an understanding smile. “I’ve been in the same boat. Sometimes I don’t know how I make it out of the house.”

“Um,” Shion said, his eyes flickering to the door, to the cashier, and then to Nezumi.

“How much do you have there?” The old woman scrutinized the bottles of water on the counter, the mound of protein bars, and tutted. “Quite a haul there. Not to worry.” She reached for her purse and fished around inside. “Just add it to my purchases, would you, Yuriko?”

“Ah, that’s―,” Shion began, and then quickly silenced himself as he came to the same conclusion Nezumi had.

If a kind stranger wanted to waste her money on two homeless teenagers, then Nezumi wasn’t about to refuse a gift. It would ensure he and Shion could at least avoid needing to lay as low in the next few weeks.

She placed her bottle of juice on the counter, and after a moment, the cashier scanned it. She said the total, and the old woman handed over a single bill. She refused the change, instead requesting the cashier to deposit it into a rusty metal cup marked up with the word ‘CHARITY’ in black Sharpie.

“You’re too kind,” Nezumi said carefully, sweeping the protein bars off the counter. He handed them to Shion, who quickly pulled the backpack in front of his chest and filled it.

Nezumi’s eyes clicked to the cashier, but she didn’t seem bothered with them anymore. The old woman’s presence and random act of kindness had quelled her suspicions, but had raised a few of Nezumi’s own. He couldn’t sense any hostility, but he didn’t want to stick around.

With another brief expression of thanks, Nezumi took Shion by the arm and ushered him quickly but calmly out the door.

: _Just walk_ ,: Nezumi told Shion, staring ahead. : _Don’t panic. I don’t think she’s with the Lab. Once we round the corner, speed up. We’re going to take a longer route to the warehouse in case someone spots us_.:

Shion didn’t respond, but he slowed his steps to a steady stroll. Nezumi gripped Shion’s forearm as they crossed the gas station’s empty lot, striding through the pillars suspending the cement ceiling above the pumps, and headed for the street corner.

_So far, so good_.

But as soon as Shion and Nezumi turned the corner, Nezumi’s stomach dropped.

The sound of shoes rustling against the pavement behind him sent chills down his spine.

Shion whirled, and the electric current prickling through the air spiked―and Nezumi’s stomach didn’t settle as the same old woman from the gas station bustled around the corner after them, gasping as if she’d been hurrying to catch up.

“Boys!” she huffed, shuffling up to them as quickly as she could. “Hold on―just a moment!”

Shion’s eyes darted to Nezumi, searching for guidance.

: _Stay calm. Let me think_.: Nezumi straightened his spine and tried to look confused rather than concerned. He glanced around the street, peering quickly at the windows surrounding them.

Nezumi looked at the old woman and said, “Yes, ma’am?”

“One―one moment.” The old woman pressed a hand to her breast and exhaled hard. “Oh, I’m not built for running like I used to be. I thought I’d lose track of you.”

The words sent anxious prickles down Nezumi’s spine.

“Ah, but where are my manners? My name’s Kinako Yoshida, but just Kinako’s alright with me.” She gave them both a polite smile, but didn’t offer her hand. Nezumi saw the twitch of her arm as if she’d considered attempting, but thought better of it.

“Kinako,” Nezumi replied. “Thank you for what you did. You didn’t have to help us.”

“It wasn’t any trouble. You seemed pretty embarrassed.”

Nezumi rubbed the back of his neck and looked sheepish. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I left the house without my cash.”

“Oh, dear, please. We both know you two are homeless.”

Nezumi’s mouth ran dry.

Kinako’s expression softened. “It’s not difficult to figure out. I won’t embarrass you by pointing out specifics, but…I could just tell.”

Shion’s fingers flexed at his side.

“And, well, I thought―” Kinako exhaled and brushed her bangs from her face. “Oh, my, this is much more difficult than I thought it would be. I’ll just come right out and say it.” She looked at them, her eyes open and friendly, and said, “This might be a bit forward, but my husband and I used to run a bed and breakfast in this town. It doesn’t operate as one much anymore, but we still have a room available. You two aren’t from around here, are you? It’s much too cold to be sleeping outside. If you’d like, you’re welcome to our spare room for a while.”

Nezumi’s heart clenched so hard he thought it had stopped beating altogether. A trap. This had to be a trap. He felt Shion’s hand wrap around his own, squeezing so hard it sent a sharp pain through Nezumi’s fingers.

Nezumi looked into Kinako’s eyes and Reached. He stared into the wide-open irises welcoming him in, edging through the synapses in her mind and filing through her thoughts.

There were dark spots in her mind―the beginnings of dementia―and Nezumi edged his fingers through them, pulling the thoughts forward and peering into them. He drew them to the forefront, locked on the reason behind her offer, the thoughts flooding up before him and painting a picture.

A wave of love and nostalgia slammed into Nezumi, so strong his knees went weak. He watched the woman’s memories dredge up images of another teenager, a simple boy with dark brown hair and a wild smile. Plain in looks, but rich in happiness. Her son, from the memories of arms around him, from the sensation of love bubbling to the surface.

And beneath it, there was sorrow―the memories of ice as a coffin closed over a face that would never smile again, time cut short by a negligent driver. Those thoughts shoved down into the darkness until Shion had wandered into view, different in appearance, but close enough to pull those feelings of nostalgia from their decades-old box.

Nezumi’s fingers squeezed around Shion’s, assuring him without words that there was nothing to fear from the old woman standing before them. Kinako Yoshida’s pleasant smile hadn’t slipped, filled with understanding and kindness as she took in their extended silence.

From Shion, Nezumi could sense terror, but also subconscious excitement at the prospect of a bed and the warmth of an insulated house. Perhaps even warm food, without needing to risk another incident with Nezumi’s leaf trick. Nezumi could tell that part of Shion felt ashamed for those feelings, and a deep part of himself began to feel rotten.

“Thank you for the offer,” Nezumi replied, and as he felt Shion’s fingers begin to go slack around his own, Nezumi tightened his grip and said, “We’d appreciate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	18. Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! We hope you're all doing well! Here's hoping that 2021 is way better than 2020 has been! We're definitely looking forward to sharing more chapters of this fic with you all. You've been amazing and we can't wait for you all to see the rest of this fic! Stay safe and keep being awesome!

Kinako Yoshida’s home was only a fifteen-minute walk from the convenience store. Kinako talked as they went, sharing mundane things about the town: here’s the laundromat, and here’s where the best milkshakes are, Farmer’s Market goes up on that road in the spring and runs all the way through Cherry Lane. Occasionally, she inquired about Nezumi and Shion’s time in town. Nezumi usually answered these questions in as vague terms as he could, but the older woman didn’t seem to mind his reticence.

Nezumi and Shion’s hands were still clasped together; Nezumi wanted to believe that it was to lend Shion support, but the truth might have been the other way around. Shion didn’t look scared or worried about the prospect of staying with strangers, only cautious. Only the slightest bit hopeful. Which was Shion’s default when it came to offered kindnesses. He took them at face value, while Nezumi always looked at them askance.

Kinako quieted into companionable silence as they exited the town proper and stepped out onto a dirt road crowded by spindly trees. Nezumi tightened his hold on Shion’s hand.

“This walk must be beautiful when the trees flower,” Shion said, loud enough that Kinako could hear. “These are plum trees, aren’t they?”

Kinako turned, her eyes bright with pleasure. “They are! Every January the whole road is lined with whites and pinks. It’s the loveliest thing.” She nodded at the naked branches before aiming another smile at Shion. “You know your trees well.”

He ducked his head shyly. “My mom likes gardening.”

Kinako’s fond expression stayed in place, but she tilted her head. Nezumi didn’t need to read her mind to know what she was thinking: Why was Shion wandering around homeless if he had a mother? He had a few explanations queued up in case she asked, but Kinako was apparently too well-mannered. She waved them forward with a cheery, “The house is just around this corner!”

“You OK?” Shion whispered.

Nezumi looked over at Shion, but the concern he saw in Shion’s eyes had him immediately turning his face forward again. “Fine.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to stay. We can go back to the warehouse.”

“We already agreed to stay. The woman is safe. She… She thinks you look like her dead son.”

Nezumi glanced at Shion’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. He looked surprised, then regretful, then he looked at Kinako’s back. She was humming softly under her breath, a happy, springtime tune.

They rounded the corner and the house came into view. The exterior was painted a light orange color, like the sunset, and accents around the door and windows were in a dark, warm brown. The second story facing the road looked like it had two or three rooms to it, which had balconies with small, rectangular railings. The home was quiet, quaint, and utterly charming.

The inside complimented the outside: cream painted walls and light wooden accents in the low coffee table and rocking chairs in the living room. A plush, dark blue loveseat sat against the back wall opposite an older model television. Plants crowded the corners of the room, and one particularly energetic rubber tree plant was bent to peek over the edge of the window sill.

“Sou?” Kinako called as they entered, and a man’s voice called back in greeting. “Come here, we’ve got guests.”

An elderly man came out of the kitchen at the same moment Nezumi and Shion filed into the living room. He was tall, lean, and tanned. His dark eyes were obscured a bit by the smeared lenses of his glasses, but he looked friendly, and he caught his wife in a half hug when she drifted to him.

“Guests, you say?” he asked her with a look of amused curiosity.

“Yes, we met at Ichiro’s. This is…” Kinako paused and blinked at them. “Oh my,” she laughed. “I didn’t even ask your names yet, did I? Look at me, getting so old and forgetful.”

Shion smiled. “My name’s Shion, and this is Nezumi.”

“Mm. I’m Souta,” the man said.

He studied them both for a moment, no doubt taking in their rough and unwashed appearances and making the same connections his wife had. Nezumi tried to gauge whether he found Shion’s looks familiar, but he didn’t seem struck in any way.

“Why don’t you two sit down,” Souta said, his smile a quieter version of his wife’s, “and we’ll get you something to eat?”

“Oh, well….” Shion paused, stuck between wanting to be polite and being very hungry.

“Thank you,” Nezumi said to save everyone the trouble of posturing.

He dragged Shion by the hand over to the couch and plopped down on it. Now that he agreed to be at the mercy of the kind couple, he felt exhausted.

Kinako tilted her head at them, smiled, and disappeared into the kitchen after her husband. No doubt they were going to have a private chat about what to do with the dirty vagrant children they’d invited into their home.

Some part of Nezumi hoped Souta would disagree with his wife and they’d be asked to leave. It was an ugly, pathetic thought and he knew it, but he couldn’t help but think it.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” Shion asked him.

“Fine. Quit asking.”

“OK… But could you loosen your grip a little?”

Nezumi looked down at their hands and realized Shion’s fingers had gone white at the tips; he could feel Shion’s knuckle bones creaking in his vice grip. Nezumi let go.

“I didn’t realize,” he said in place of an apology.

Shion pursed his lips at his abandoned hand, but said nothing. He looked around the room, his eyes running over the verdant houseplants and a basket of half-knitted sweaters atop the TV. “Cute house.”

Shion plucked a photo from one of the side tables near the couch and stared down at it. He stared long enough that Nezumi glanced over. It was a picture of Kinako and Souta, younger and dressed in formal clothes, and between them was a boy, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old. He had a shock of unruly brown hair, Souta’s dark, kind eyes, and a dimple in one smiling cheek. His bowtie was askew.

“Their son?” Shion’s voice was quiet.

“Yeah.”

Shion nodded, expression unreadable. “I don’t look much like him.”

“No,” Nezumi agreed. “But maybe it’s a feeling more than the looks.”

Shion furrowed his brow.

“You know,” Nezumi said, waving his hand vaguely. “That happy-go-lucky, punch-the-sun aura you have. I don’t know, never mind. Stop looking at me like that.”

Shion’s face split into a grin. He put the picture back on the side table and beamed at Nezumi like he wanted to hug or kiss him, but this was a stranger’s house, and Nezumi wasn’t going to allow either when there was a chance someone would walk in on them. The Yoshidas might be nice folks, but he didn’t want to press their luck.

Kinako and Souta came out of the kitchen. It was obvious they had been discussing Nezumi and Shion, because Souta was now studying Shion as well, no doubt trying to map the features of his long-dead son over Shion’s face. Maybe he succeeded, maybe not, but regardless, he emanated the same mild, non-threatening energy as his wife, and seemed determined to room and board them.

“Lunch isn’t quite ready yet, but Kinako said she could take you upstairs to wash and pick out a room.”

Nezumi’s face heated a little. There was absolutely no judgment in Souta’s tone, but the mention of washing reminded Nezumi of how absolutely dirty he and Shion were after weeks on the road with only one true shower and many hurried river splashes in between. He had lived so long like this, he had stopped noticing if he smelled or not, but now he had a mortifying suspicion he and Shion reeked like hobos.

_No wonder the woman at the convenience store hated us on sight._

Shion’s face was also red, but he managed a mumbled, “Thank you.”

The sympathetic look on Kinako’s face spoke volumes.

She led them through the kitchen—which was thick with the scent of _hot_ food. Nezumi hadn’t had a hot meal in too long—and up a staircase. There were three choices of bedroom, two with twin beds and one with a queen, and all looked clean and comfortable.

“We used to take boarders on a regular basis, but some things happened, and we stopped,” Kinako explained. Nezumi wondered what “some things” were, but he suspected it was painful, and abstained from prying.

“We’ve been thinking about opening up again, though,” she continued. “You two will be our trial run.”

Shion laughed lightly. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Oh, no. You two look like nice boys; I doubt you’ll give us much trouble.”

Shion and Nezumi exchanged a silent look, but Kinako didn’t seem to notice. She crossed the room to the window and threw open the curtains, bathing the room in lazy sunlight.

“Which room will you be taking? This one has the best view, but I don’t know if that does anything for you.”

“I actually like this one best,” Shion admitted.

Nezumi did as well. The walls were painted a soothing pastel blue which matched the checkered curtains and complemented the thick blue carpet. The queen bed was piled high with pillows and blankets, just begging them to fall onto it and sink into oblivion, and Nezumi liked that the small balcony overlooked the road to the house. This room also had its own bathroom—as opposed to the other two rooms, which shared a bathroom—and was nearest to the stairs. It checked all the boxes.

“And you?” Kinako asked Nezumi.

“I like this one too.”

The woman smiled, and a shine came into her eye that set Nezumi’s body on edge.

“So will you be flipping a coin for it?” she asked, laughter in her voice.

Shion and Nezumi exchanged a look of confusion, but then Nezumi realized her meaning. Nezumi’s face heated for the second time in as many minutes, and Shion’s also caught fire. Kinako’s smile flagged in confusion.

Her eyes flitted between them and then lit up. “Oh, I see!”

“I have nightmares,” Shion blurted, a beat too late to salvage the moment. “Staying together helps….” His face burned to the tips of his ears.

“Oh, psh.” Kinako waved a hand. “I don’t mind a bit if you two want to share a room. Towels are in the linen closet in the hall. Come down when you’re ready.”

Kinako left, humming a light tune under her breath.

“That was embarrassing,” Nezumi mumbled.

“Just a bit….” Shion plucked at the quilt on the bed. “You want to shower first?”

“You go ahead.” Nezumi wanted to get acquainted with the room and check if the balcony was scalable, in case they had to make a quick getaway. He drifted to the window and looked out upon the silent woods.

“And you’re sure you’re OK staying here?”

Nezumi’s shoulders slumped.

What did Shion want? The truth? No, Nezumi wasn’t comfortable being in this house with these people, no matter how innocent and kind they seemed. He was attracted to the idea of a warm bed, and warm food, and warm conversation, but he could never be at ease. When things were too good, he looked for the catch; he waited for the betrayal.

So, no, he wasn’t OK staying here. But he remembered how relieved Shion had been to stay at the hotel all those weeks ago, and he saw how well Shion conversed with the couple. He was in his element. Kindness and comfort came as naturally to Shion as cynicism and survival came to Nezumi.

And his and Shion’s relationship was still new. Things were good, which meant Nezumi couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways it could go wrong. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Shion to realize his mistake and leave him.

Shion liked people and soft beds, so Nezumi was giving that to him. He was too afraid of what would happen if he dangled comfort in front of Shion and then ripped it away, no matter how many times Shion assured him. Nezumi needed to keep him happy to keep him.

It was a sickening feeling, and he couldn’t help but feel threatened by this newborn attachment, even as he did all he could to protect it. He was certain it would bring him pain. And yet….

“Take a shower,” Nezumi said, and when he turned around a moment later, Shion had disappeared into the bathroom.

He was too dirty to sit on such a fresh-looking bed, so Nezumi sat on the floor and rested his head in his hands as he listened to the water run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	19. Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! Here's hoping that this week is a little bit more relaxing and enjoyable than the beginning of 2021 has been. We're thrilled to share another chapter with you all, and we hope you enjoy it!

Nezumi woke up a bit at a time, vaguely aware of the drumming sound of water coming from beyond the bedroom window.

At first, the sound had migrated into his subconscious and become part of his dream: he was three years old, and his papa had taken him to the lake. The dream had been vivid, more so than any of the others Nezumi experienced. He could taste the mud, smell the tang of blood and fish scales as his father hunted down some breakfast.

In his dreams, his father’s teeth were yellow. Perfect needles stuffed behind his pale lips. Nezumi saw them almost every day, so he knew his father scrubbed them with polish and flossed, even though the minty wax caught between his teeth and broke. His father’s teeth were white as a snowman.

The yellow coloring in his dreams brought about the image of something feral. His father looked animalistic with yellow teeth rather than an imperfect, mundane white.

In his dream, Nezumi’s father caught fish with his bare hands and bit into their spines. There was blood smeared on his lips and scales wedged between his canines.

Nezumi watched the surface of the still water. He had seen the dark gray storm clouds rolling in, and it soon began to rain. The surface of the lake rippled and shuddered. Thunder cracked in the distance. His father’s long, gunmetal hair clung to his forehead, dripping into his eyes. Nezumi listened to the sounds of the rain pattering against the surface of the lake.

His father turned to him and flashed his teeth in a sinister grin. The rainwater washed the blood from his face, but it remained on his teeth.

“ _From what I heard, he was a terror to deal with. He hurt a lot of people_.”

Nezumi blinked. His father had never threatened him. Even when he was angry, he made it a point not to use his serrated teeth to terrify Nezumi. Nezumi had seen his papa rage at plenty of other things―when his frustration with the Lab had led him outside to land punches against trees―but he’d never frightened Nezumi before.

“ _They were dangerous. You should see the incident reports we had to write about them. The murders in the local town the night they escaped_.”

That didn’t make any sense. Nezumi’s father had never killed anyone. Nezumi would know if he’d done something like that. His father would have told him. And even if he had, those people must have been bad guys. People who deserved to die.

“ _Murders in the local town_.”

Except Nezumi had heard stories about that night. Rumors circulating in towns about the man with shark teeth who swept in from the forests, killed two people, and vanished.

His father’s dark eyes flickered when the lightning struck. His lips drew back in a wide grin, his lips split from ear to ear until all Nezumi could see were two rows of monstrous, serrated teeth.

“Papa?” Nezumi asked.

His father’s bloody teeth lit up with each bolt of lightning. The world around them was dark. The lake was pitch black, and his papa rose from it like a horror movie monster, soaked to the bone and staring at Nezumi with predatory eyes.

A crack of thunder burst through the clearing as his father took a step forward―

Nezumi opened his eyes. His vision blurred gray at the edges, and he glanced up at the ceiling. It was dark, but his eyes adjusted quickly. There was a bit of light coming from beyond the curtains, and after a moment, a flash of lightning illuminated the unfamiliar bedroom.

Nezumi bolted upright, heart pounding in his throat. A chill shuddered through his body, prickling up his spine and setting him on edge.

The nightmarish images should have vanished the moment Nezumi registered he was awake, but they clung to his mind like a bloodstain: His father’s frightening teeth and the monstrous look on his face. The primal terror that had gripped Nezumi’s soul as he realized he was his father’s next target, and he would never be fast enough to escape.

Nezumi did a quick survey of his surroundings and shoved the thoughts aside. Logic overtook the horrific imagery, reminding him that nothing like that had ever happened in the waking world. Hawk’s weasley voice wormed its way through his subconscious, his poisonous words taking hold of the anxiety beneath Nezumi’s armor and infiltrating his sleeping mind. He felt disgusted and miserable all at once, as if the whole world could see right through him.

And then Nezumi realized Shion’s side of the bed was empty.

His hand snapped over to it. The sheets were still warm, but Nezumi’s pulse didn’t slow. His eyes flashed to the corner where Shion had set their backpack full of supplies, and it was still there.

 _The Lab would have taken us both_. Nezumi’s gaze darted to the bedroom window. Beyond the thin curtains and the glass, he could see fat raindrops obscuring the night sky. It was a heavy downpour, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

The sounds in his dream came flooding back. Nezumi shoved the blankets aside and stepped onto the carpet. The bed creaked beneath the shift in his weight, and Nezumi winced. It was too loud.

How had he not been woken by Shion getting out of bed? Nezumi had trained himself to wake up at the slightest shift in sound. Most nights, when it was his turn to doze, Shion’s breathing was enough to jostle him from a sound sleep. It had begun to aggravate him less and less, but Nezumi had never been a deep sleeper.

He glanced over his shoulder at the queen bed and its plush, warm comforter. When it had been time to sleep that night, Nezumi had nestled down beside Shion with a belly full of warm food. He’d taken a hot shower earlier, and Souta Yoshida had loaned him and Shion some pajamas because their only outerwear had been in…subpar condition.

While Nezumi had some initial reservations about wearing this stranger's clothing, the look on Shion’s face at the prospect of warm food and fresh clothes had forced him into silence. An unfamiliar ache of guilt gnawed at Nezumi’s gut.

Shion had fallen asleep quickly enough. He’d burrowed into the blankets, wrapping himself up in the top sheet like a burrito, and passed out before Nezumi had a chance to get comfortable. Nezumi had snorted and eased down beside him. The queen bed provided plenty of room for them both to stretch out, but Nezumi found himself easing back toward Shion’s sleeping frame.

Nezumi looked toward the attached bathroom door. His shoulders dropped when he found the door cracked and the interior dark. _There goes that theory_.

He slowly eased toward the bedroom door, trying to wrap his head around their situation. Kinako and Souta Yoshida hadn’t given Nezumi any indication that they had something sinister in mind. Their fondness for Shion based on his few similarities to their deceased child had seemed like a Get Out of Jail Free Card.

Nezumi pushed the bedroom door open, wincing at the groan from the metal hinges. The whole house was in desperate need of some WD-40, despite its clean appearance.

He made his way slowly down the hall, listening for any signs of movement or danger. If the Lab was involved, perhaps they were using Shion as bait to lure Nezumi out.

That thought gave Nezumi pause. _If that’s the case, I’m playing right into their hands_. Nezumi’s gut instinct was to head back upstairs, lock himself in the bedroom, and wait for the next sign of danger. He and Shion had washed their clothes in the Yoshida’s washing machine and kept them tucked in the backpack. He could be dressed and out the window well before the Lab had any idea he’d awoken. The rain would slow their ability to track him.

But the idea of leaving Shion―imagining him unconscious in the back of a transport van or bound in cuffs―made Nezumi’s soul cry out. How could he leave Shion to face the Lab alone? How could he run away when Shion had poured so much of himself into everything Nezumi held dear, when Shion had given Nezumi something so precious he could never hope to pay it back?

 _I’m an idiot_ , Nezumi thought, plunging forward into the darkness of the Yoshidas’ house. _I’m such a fucking idiot_.

A flash of lightning illuminated the living room, displaying the old-fashioned furniture and framed photographs on the end tables. Nezumi’s eyes flickered to the windows displaying the porch. The heavy rain outside blocked the view of the road, too heavy for any cars to drive safely. Nezumi didn’t think the Lab was stupid enough to put themselves at such a disadvantage.

Nezumi picked up a strange shape just beyond the window as the lightning faded, and his heart jumped into his throat. The wave of panic that had settled around him began to dissipate. He took a deep breath, crossed the living room, and eased the front door open.

Shion stood with his back against the side of the house. The white tee shirt and flannel pants Souta Yoshida had loaned him were splotched with rain, but he was tucked close enough to the house to avoid most of the downpour.

Nezumi shut the door behind him as quietly as he could. He’d made certain it was unlocked―he was grateful the Yoshidas had the decency to lock their doors at night―and relished in the scents of falling rain and fresh dirt. There was an uncomfortable chill in the air, and Nezumi could see goosebumps on Shion’s bare arms.

“Why are you out here?” Nezumi asked.

Shion’s shoulders jolted, and he turned to Nezumi with a startled look. Nezumi felt a spike of irritation. Shion hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. A move like that would get him killed if he wasn’t careful. He should have known better.

“Oh, Nezumi.” Shion’s shoulders relaxed, and a calm smile pulled at his lips. The sight of it sent a quick bolt of warmth through Nezumi’s chest. “Sorry, I just―just had some trouble sleeping.”

Nezumi folded his arms and shuffled closer to Shion. He turned his face away, looking out at the blackened road. He couldn’t see anything outside the heavy curtain of rainfall, and it made him uneasy. It would be too easy for someone to sneak up on them.

“Did I wake you?” Shion asked.

“Clearly not.” Nezumi shrugged. “How long have you been out here?”

“Mm. Not sure.” Shion’s fingers flexed. “Ten minutes?”

Nezumi pressed his lips together. “It’s freezing out here,” he said.

“Yeah. But it’s kind of nice, you know? A reminder that there’s something out here.” Shion edged closer to Nezumi, until their shoulders touched. Nezumi flinched but didn’t pull away. “We’ve spent so much time in the warehouse, and even though the bed’s nice―OK, who are we kidding, the bed’s _amazing_ ―I was just having some trouble sleeping. I felt…anxious, I guess.”

Nezumi understood all too well what Shion meant. In the few rare occasions he’d found a way to sleep in a bed or under a roof, a feral part of Nezumi’s soul craved the freedom of nature. It seeped into his very being and called for him to return.

“I’m sorry if I worried you,” Shion said suddenly.

Nezumi’s shoulders shot to his ears. “You didn’t.”

“Oh?” Shion’s shoulder nudged against Nezumi’s. “Then why did you come looking for me?”

“I thought you’d get lost. You always need a guide.”

Shion exhaled a laugh, and Nezumi felt another surge of warmth through his chest.

They stood listening to the rain for a few minutes, side-by-side as the rain fell. The flashes of lightning displayed quick glimpses of the Yoshida’s front yard, proving to Nezumi that there was nothing lurking in the shadows.

The anxiety that had begun to swallow him slowly began to dissipate. With Shion standing at his side, Nezumi’s nightmares vanished. The unease of their situation―squatting in a stranger’s home, eating warm food and pretending they weren’t on the run from one of the world’s most powerful companies―washed away beneath the comforting sounds of the rain.

Nezumi felt Shion’s hand slip into his, his skin warm and soft as he intertwined their fingers. Nezumi squeezed Shion’s hand, pressing their palms more firmly together.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Shion murmured, his words just barely audible above the heavy rain. “I shouldn’t have gone outside without telling you.”

Nezumi opened his mouth to tell Shion he _wasn't_ worried, but the words died in his throat. Instead, he replied, “I thought the Lab got you.”

“Oh.”

Nezumi pressed his lips together as Shion shifted. Their hands remained clasped as Shion rested his head against Nezumi’s shoulder. The scent of green apple shampoo tickled his nose, and the tension in Nezumi’s body uncoiled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Shion murmured against Nezumi’s shoulder.

Nezumi tilted his head and rested his chin against Shion’s hair. It was soft, and Nezumi thought it could be nice to stay like this for a while. The cold didn’t bother him. Shion’s warmth at his side chased away the chill, the anxiety, and the horror brought forth from Nezumi’s nightmares.

Lightning flashed, and a few moments later, thunder answered.

The storm was moving away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	20. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! We hope you're all doing well. Hard to believe we're almost out of January already, but hopefully, everyone's been having a decent beginning to their New Year and are keeping themselves safe. So, without further adieu, let's dive into this new chapter! Enjoy!

Shion sat perched on the edge of the bed and stared down the darkened face of his phone.

Nezumi was in the shower. By his reasoning, now that they had the benefit of running water, they should take as much advantage of it as possible. His insistence had made Shion smile. Nezumi seemed to hold his appearance in high regard; Shion wondered how he could stand living rough all the time.

He knew Nezumi would be in the bathroom for at least ten minutes, so Shion took the opportunity to bring out his cell phone, something he would never do in Nezumi’s presence. Shion knew that any reminders or recollections of his home made Nezumi uncomfortable. But Shion’s family was never far from his mind, he had just become better and better at hiding his emotions as their time together wore on.

Shion brushed his thumb over the phone’s blackened face. He wondered whether his mother and Safu were doing well. No doubt they, too, thought about him often. He wished he could call them, but he knew the dangers of doing so. The Lab knew of him, and definitely had the resources to put a trace on his phone and its activity.

_Perhaps I can use the Yoshidas’ phone?_ But no hope buoyed in his chest at the idea. The Lab likely kept tabs on his mother’s activity as well, so no matter what, he couldn’t call her on her cell or at the bakery. Shion sighed and stuffed the phone back into the bottom of the backpack.

The sun outside was as bright and inviting as a summer day, but the bluish grey of the lingering frost on the lawn told the true story of the weather. The smell of eggs and slightly burnt toast wafted into the bedroom through the cracked door. Shion lay back on the bed and breathed the scent in.

The sheets were still a bit warm and Shion smiled at the memory of waking to Nezumi snoozing by his side. They were always trading watch shifts, so he and Nezumi hadn’t had a chance to sleep side by side—or in a bed—since the hotel at the beginning of their journey. And even then, he and Nezumi hadn’t been together the way they were now.

A fizzy, fluffy feeling spread through Shion’s chest. He still couldn’t believe that they were...boyfriends? Partners? Whatever the label, he couldn’t be more excited. He almost wished they weren’t staying at a stranger’s house, because then he might be able to act on all the impulses singing in his veins whenever Nezumi was near.

Shion’s cheeks heated. _Actually, maybe it’s better that we_ are _in someone else’s home_. _I’ve never been in a relationship before. I don’t want to ruin it by moving too fast._

The realization that he would be sharing a bed with Nezumi kept intruding on his thoughts all throughout dinner last night, and he didn’t think he’d hidden his nervousness very well. The Yoshidas had spoken gently and warmly to him, as if to a skittish animal, and Nezumi kept casting concerned glances his way. By the time they turned in for bed, Shion didn’t think he could trust himself to behave, so he was forced to burrito himself in the blankets.

But it was nice to watch the rain in silence with Nezumi at his side, and he could imagine no greater happiness than to wake in the morning to his face. Shion hoped he would be treated to the sight for many years to come.

The bathroom door opened, and Shion sat up. Nezumi stepped out in a faint cloud of steam, toweling off his hair, but he paused when he noticed Shion.

“Did I interrupt something?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“...No? What do you mean?” Why did Nezumi ask that question? Was he making a weird face?

“You jumped up all guilty-like.”

“You startled me. I was dozing.”

“Daydreaming, more like,” Nezumi snorted. “I know you.”

Shion ducked his head, but really he was pleased. Nezumi ‘knew him.’ He liked that.

“Fantasizing about me?”

Shion’s head snapped up. Nezumi had tossed the towel back into the bathroom, and was finger combing his hair in the mirror, frowning at the mess of his blue-black hair. Kinako had let them both borrow clothes to change into this morning. Shion’s shirt was blue and black plaid, but Nezumi’s was forest green, which brightened his grey eyes. He looked obscenely good in the shirt, and Shion hoped they might be able to keep the clothes whenever they left.

Nezumi caught his gaze in the reflection, and Shion realized he had taken too long to respond.

Shion blushed and opened his mouth to refute the comment, but nothing came out. He wondered what might happen if he didn’t deny it….

Nezumi held his gaze in the mirror’s reflection for a long moment, wearing an expression of blank surprise. He had apparently meant the question as a joke and wasn’t prepared to receive a silent confirmation. It appeared that neither of them knew what to do now that they’d embarked on this fledgling romance. That was a little reassuring.

Nezumi cleared his throat and turned, but did not say anything. Shion worried his lower lip. He drew in a steadying breath and stood.

“Nezumi.” Nezumi stood very still as Shion approached. He stopped an arms length away and mumbled, “I want to… Um.”

Why was it so hard to say? Why did talking to Nezumi suddenly feel so embarrassing when it had been effortless just days before?

Nezumi smelled like heat and the green apple shampoo kept in the shower. It was hard to meet his gaze without feeling like a nervous, sweaty mess, but Shion persevered.

He pinched the edge of Nezumi’s sleeve and tried again. “Can… Can I…?”

“Yes.”

Shion’s heart bumped in his chest. “Yes?”

Nezumi’s gaze flitted to Shion’s mouth for just a second, but it was enough to set Shion’s body alight.

“Yes,” Nezumi repeated.

Shion kissed him, shy and close-mouthed, still gripping the edge of Nezumi’s sleeve like a frightened child. The nerves evaporated against the warmth of his lips, though. They both exhaled at the same time, easing into the kiss, and Nezumi’s fingers ghosted over the side of Shion’s neck.

“Boys?”

Shion and Nezumi jolted apart.

“Are you awake? Breakfast is ready.”

It sounded like Kinako was calling up to them from the bottom of the stairs, so at least they hadn’t been caught out, but Shion’s skin still prickled with embarrassment. He smiled sheepishly at Nezumi, who pressed his lips together in an equally guilty expression.

“Later,” Nezumi muttered to him and moved toward the door.

Shion stayed rooted to the spot. _Later?_ His whole body rang warmly with the promise.

**⁂**

Kinako Yoshida smiled at them basically all throughout breakfast. Nezumi didn’t like it, because it made him feel like she _knew_ things, and Nezumi liked to be the only one who knew things. But he couldn’t exactly dislike the lady. She was too...pure? He knew that the woman was made of one-hundred percent good intentions, and it was hard not to appreciate her welcoming demeanor.

Besides, Shion seemed to be enjoying her attentions and easy conversations, and Nezumi was finding it difficult as of late to dislike anything Shion genuinely liked. But then again, there were few things Shion _didn’t_ like, so Nezumi might have to abandon this new sense of tolerance quickly, in the name of self-preservation.

Shion was just so good at talking to people. He smiled at and conversed with the Yoshidas as though they were lifelong friends. Nezumi had never had that talent—or rather, he had never valued sociability, and therefore made no effort to improve at it. But he didn’t need to know now that he had Shion; he could leave all the niceties to him, and Nezumi only had to focus on keeping them alive.

He wanted badly to retreat to the sanctuary of the bedroom. But just as this thought popped into his head, he felt Shion’s fingers lace through his under the cover of the tabletop and Nezumi didn’t feel quite so eager to escape anymore. His thoughts drifted to a more pleasant topic, that of Shion kissing him this morning. That had been equal parts alarming and satisfying, and Nezzumi was looking forward to doing it again.

“Oh!” Souta interjected. “That reminds me. News says it’s gonna be a harsh winter, so I’ll need to bring up the salt from the basement. Would either of you boys be able to help me? I hate to ask, but… Well, I’m getting older, and it’s hard to heft those bags up the staircase by myself.”

“Of course,” Shion said. “It’s the least we can do, since you’re letting us stay here.”

Shion squeezed Nezumi’s hand, and so he said, “Yeah, it’d be our pleasure,” but afterward he felt stupid and resentful for saying it on command like a performing monkey.

“Thank you both so much,” Kinako laughed. “I think though, Souta, you only need one of them for that, right? I was hoping, Shion, that you could show me some of those recipes you’ve been telling me about.”

“They’re not my recipes,” said Shion, “but I’d be happy to show you some.” And indeed he looked very happy.

Nezumi felt an itch of suspicion at the back of his mind. The Yoshidas were trying to separate them. Why?

After breakfast, Shion and Kinako stayed behind to discuss baking, and Nezumi followed Souta outside and around back to the staircase down to the basement. It was a small space, filled with dust and rusted tools, and in the corner were four hefty bags of snow salt. That seemed like a lot to Nezumi, but maybe this area received a lot of snowfall. They took two trips, each bringing the bags up and laying them against the frontside of the house for easy access.

“Thank you,” Souta said when they had finished. He rubbed at his shoulders and winced; he must not have been joking about the toll carrying the bags took on his body.

The older man rooted around in his pocket and pulled out a couple thousand yen notes. “Here, son. For your work today.”

Color rose in Nezumi’s cheeks. Was this why the Yoshidas had conspired to separate them?

“No, it’s alright,” he said, taking a step back. “I don’t need that.”

“Please, take it,” Souta said, his eyes sparkling and kind. “It’s not charity; it’s payment for the labor.”

Nezumi clenched his teeth, but he didn’t want to prolong the exchange, as it could only embarrass them both. He took the money from the older man and murmured something he hoped would sound appropriately grateful. He wondered if Kinako was going to pay Shion for his confectionary knowledge as well. He and Shion would have to find a way to return the money before they left.

Souta had him do a few other menial tasks around the yard—though, thankfully, he offered no further compensation—before he released him to his own devices. Nezumi made a beeline for the kitchen, and when he arrived, he found Shion and Kinako baking happily, each in their own black and white pinstripe apron.

Shion’s face lit up when he spotted Nezumi hovering in the doorway. “Nezumi! We’re making lemon bars!”

“That’s...nice,” Nezumi managed.

Shion’s brilliant smile dimmed a few watts. “You don’t like lemon bars?”

“I…” Nezumi traded glances between him and Kinako and didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t encountered this level of domestic felicity in years, and a gnawing emptiness had begun to eat away at the bottom of his stomach. “They’re fine.”

“Oh, but if you don’t like them, we can make something else that you do like,” Kinako offered. “Do you like snickerdoodles?”

“I… I’m not big on sweets, in general,” Nezumi admitted.

“Gingerbread, then?”

“...Sure?” This was all a little too much for him. He missed when it was just him and Shion and the silence of the woods.

“I don’t think we have ingredients for gingerbread, though,” Shion said.

“That’s alright, Nezumi and I will go get them.”

_We’ll do_ what _now?_ Nezumi blinked at her. What, was today ‘volunteer Nezumi for things he didn’t ask to do’ day? Shion’s eyes widened. Even he seemed to be catching on to the weird mood.

“Why don’t we all go?” Shion suggested, taking a step forward.

Nezumi felt a pulse of relief. He didn’t want to be apart from Shion and it appeared the feeling was mutual.

“No, no, you stay here and start on the lemon bars, and we’ll get the gingerbread.”

“Did I hear gingerbread?” Souta wandered into the kitchen.

Kinako clapped her hands together. “Souta! Perfect! You stay here and help Shion prepare the lemon bars and whatever ingredients we _do_ have for gingerbread. Nezumi and I are going to the store. Text me what we’re missing.”

Kinako whipped off her apron and bustled across the kitchen. She tapped Nezumi on the bicep and chirped, “Let’s go!”

Souta chuckled as he watched his wife hurry out of the room with all the alacrity of a woman two decades younger. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen her so excited. You boys sure have livened up this place.”

Nezumi swallowed. He and Shion held each other’s gaze, and Shion mouthed, “Is this OK?”

Nezumi huffed. _:I can handle it,:_ he said to Shion in mindspeak, and aloud he muttered, “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

Kinako grinned as he climbed into the car, and Nezumi suspected that this private trip had nothing at all to do with cookies. He almost didn’t shut the car door and considered returning to the house, but Kinako’s brows raised in question, and Nezumi’s search of her mind still didn’t turn up any sinister intent. He was forced to close the door and resign himself to whatever mischief the old lady had in store for him.

Kinako asked him how his sleep had been and whether moving the salt bags had been difficult as they drove down the drive, but once they turned into the sleepy little town, she started in on the true purpose of this escapade.

“Have you and Shion known each other long?”

“Not very long.” Nezumi stared out the window as they rolled by a hat shop and a furniture store at a snail’s pace. This town was definitely designed with retirement in mind.

Kinako hummed in thought. “So you’ve only just started dating, then?”

Nezumi tensed and kept his gaze fixed on the scenery out the window. Deny it or say nothing? Which had the greater benefit and what could he conceivably sell to her?

“It’s OK,” Kinako said. “I’m not sure what your situation was, or why you had to leave home, but I want you to know that I don’t have any problem with it.” Nezumi felt her hand pat his arm twice and then retreat. “It’s nothing to be sorry for or ashamed of.”

Nezumi’s brows drew together. Did she think the reason he and Shion were homeless runaways was related to their homosexual relationship? That maybe they’d been disowned because of it?

_Huh…_ _That’s a good cover story._ _I can work with that._

Nezumi turned to her, eyes downcast. “You think so?”

“Yes, of course,” Kinako said with feeling. “Love is love, no matter what form it takes. And I think Shion is a great boy. He’s very lucky to have you. You’re lucky to have each other.”

Nezumi’s chest tightened. Actually, he didn’t think he could carry on with this charade. He turned back to the window and tried to pretend he was somewhere else.

“Here’s an idea….” Kinako’s voice came out slowly, as though her mind had grown distracted in the middle of speaking.

Nezumi glanced at her and realized her gaze was fixed on a store across the way. The windows were glass displays, each featuring an assortment of jewelry and baubles sparkling in the early morning sun.

Kinako parked the car in the lot out front of the jewelry store and said to Nezumi, “How about you go in there and buy Shion a present?”

“What?” Nezumi squinted at the glistening gems and chains and his stomach went sour and squirmy. “No. This is too… No. Why would I buy Shion _jewelry_? He doesn’t even wear any.”

But that wasn’t true. Shion had that charm bracelet, the one he had shown Nezumi several times now, always with pride and fondness. He bet Shion would love to receive a new charm for it.

“The store doesn’t only sell jewelry, though. It has other things he might like, all at a reasonable price. And I’m sure Shion would be happy with any gift you gave him.”

Nezumi’s shoulders were so tense they were raised practically to his ears. Kinako was more conniving than he thought. In fact, _both_ the Yoshidas were; there was no way it was a coincidence that Souta asked him for a favor, paid him for completing it, and then Kinako tempted him with buying a gift for Shion.

He would remember this moment and never take the elderly couple for innocuous again.

“Why don’t you look around while I get the groceries? You don’t have to buy anything, if you don’t want to.”

Kinako opened the door, and then paused and added, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, but you don’t have any money, do you? Do you need me to lend you some?”

Nezumi didn’t bother hiding his dry look. “No. I’ve got some. Thanks.”

Kinako sniffed, amused, and said she’d be back in twenty minutes or so. Nezumi growled under his breath and entered the jewelry shop.

There were two attendants in the store. Both had blond curls and freckles, and so he assumed this was a family-owned and operated business. Nezumi announced he was just browsing before they could offer assistance and wandered around the shop in a sulk.

He found the charms in the leftmost corner and stared down at them through the pristine glass. There were all sorts of renderings in silver and gold: Some animal, some geometric, some object, some studded with precious and semi-precious gems.

He eyed the price tag on a gold key and scowled. Expensive. _Way_ too expensive. This was stupid. He didn’t need to get Shion a gift—he _wouldn’t._ It was materialistic and ridiculous and he wasn’t cut out for pointless romantic overtures.

Nezumi scoffed and moved to leave, but the twinkling of a charm in the adjacent case gave him pause. It was a corona-wreathed sun rendered in gold plate, about the circumference of his pinky nail. Shion’s bracelet had a mixture of gold and silver charms, so this one would fit in with the rest in terms of size and coloring. Nezumi checked the price. Two thousand two hundred fifty yen. Just shy of the amount he had received that morning from Souta.

_Wait. No, no, no!_

Nezumi grit his teeth. If he was going to use the money and not return it, then it should be used for emergency essentials when they were on the road, not on some useless knick-knack. Who cares if it would make Shion light up when he saw it? The look of perfect joy on Shion’s face wouldn’t clothe them through the long winter months. His tears of gratitude and affection wouldn’t put food in their bellies.

There was absolutely no way buying the charm was worth it.

**⁂**

Kinako smiled at Nezumi as she slipped back into the driver’s seat. “Did you find anything you liked?”

Nezumi kept his arms tightly crossed over his chest and stared through the windshield. Kinako let out a short, light laugh and shrugged before turning the key in the ignition.

They rode in silence back to the house, but Nezumi’s mind rioted the whole way. The small, brown paper-wrapped parcel in his pocket burned like contraband against his thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	21. Cornered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, world! Here we are with yet another chapter of _Beyond the Horizon!_ We're thrilled to be here with you all, and we hope that you enjoy this one as much as you've all enjoyed the previous ones! Stay awesome!

Breakfast that morning was incredible.

Shion had helped himself to nearly half a loaf of bread―toasted and covered in butter. Nezumi could tell he was partly ashamed of his appetite, but Kinako had simply chuckled and told him there was plenty more where that came from.

Nezumi had eaten more than his fair share of apples and two scrambled eggs that Kinako had set in front of him the moment he and Shion emerged from upstairs. The warm food sat in the pit of his stomach, lulling him into a dull sense of calmness he hadn’t been anticipating.

It had been a good while since Nezumi felt relaxed. And while his walls certainly weren’t down, they were much less up than he preferred. Now and then, a spike of paranoia would gnaw through him, reminding him that the world was dangerous and it was meaningless to cling to these fragile moments. This peace won’t last.

When those darker thoughts crept in, Nezumi’s eyes drifted to Shion. He looked rumpled from a good night’s sleep and ridiculously happy in the Yoshidas’ too-bright kitchen, the morning sunlight filtering through the yellow curtains and kissing the edges of his hair. Nezumi could almost believe he’d grown up here, eating breakfast with the Yoshidas every morning while laughing about some subject he’d learned at school.

“Some damn good coffee, Kinako,” Souta piped up, earning him an affectionate elbow in the ribs from his wife.

“There are children present,” she tutted. “Watch your mouth.”

Shion gave them both a tired smile.

Nezumi ran a hand through his hair. It hung loose around his shoulders, and while it made the back of his neck itch, he didn’t feel like pulling it back just yet. Easing the strands around his fingers made him remember last night, after dinner and some light conversation before Shion and Nezumi had retired to the guest room.

Nezumi had tucked the paper bag inside the pocket of his jacket the instant he and Kinako returned to the house. He didn’t think Shion would search his jacket, but anxiety gripped him all the way through dinner. He supposed Shion could sense it, because he’d kept nudging Nezumi with his knee and giving him a reassuring smile.

 _I’ll just give it to him tonight. It’s not a big deal_.

Except that when Shion went into the bathroom to change for bed, Nezumi quickly changed into his own pajamas, dove under the covers, and buried his face into the pillow.

Shion had emerged sometime after, giving Nezumi’s blanket pile a quick glance. “Everything OK there?”

“ _Fine_.”

The lights clicked out, plunging the room into darkness. The mattress dipped down as Shion steadily climbed into the bed, nestling himself beneath the thick blanket. A relaxed sigh escaped his lips as he settled down, and Nezumi couldn’t help the longing that sparked through him. He flinched when the mattress creaked beneath Shion’s weight as he shifted.

A moment ticked by before Shion murmured, “Nezumi?”

“...What?”

“Um…can I kiss you?”

Nezumi unearthed his face from the pillow. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, aided by the pale light fluttering in through the bedroom window. Shion had rolled to face him, tucked on his side with his face half hidden by the plush pillow.

“Yes,” Nezumi replied, and his heart soared as Shion’s face lit up.

It was a soft, chaste kiss, just as that morning’s was. A light brushing of lips that could have ended as quickly as it began. Nezumi could taste the flavor of the mint toothpaste Shion had borrowed from the Yoshidas. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted mint. He vaguely remembered liking it.

Thinking back to it now, Nezumi shifted at the breakfast table. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. He’d always been so good at concealing his emotions. He didn’t want the Yoshidas―or God forbid, Shion―putting him in the hot seat so early in the morning.

The strangest thing had been that their kissing…hadn’t led to sex.

Nezumi wasn’t used to going slow. He was used to quick and meaningless―a brief fling where names were exchanged in a useless formality.

Shion and Nezumi had kissed plenty as the night inched on, until they drifted off close to midnight, fingers intertwined. But aside from Shion boldly nipping at Nezumi’s neck, leaving a small mark that could easily be hidden by the collar of Nezumi’s shirt, they hadn’t gone far at all.

It was different. Soft. Nezumi didn’t know how it made him feel. He hadn’t been desperate for a shower the moment they stopped kissing. Instead, he’d held Shion against him, letting their combined warmth and gentle breathing ease him into a calming slumber for the first time in months.

“Breakfast was delicious, Kinako,” Shion murmured.

“Oh, it was no trouble.” She chuckled from across the table.

Her hair was ruffled and unkempt, as if she’d tossed and turned most of the night. She wore a pale pink bathrobe and a fuzzy pair of slippers, a polar opposite to her husband, who had already dressed as if he were ready to go out and begin toiling in the fields. Souta sat nursing his second cup of coffee, a glazed look in his eye as if he weren’t quite awake yet.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had guests,” Kinako went on. “I’m sure my food’s not nearly up to hotel standards.”

Shion shook his head. “No, it was much better! Really!”

“You’re such a sweet boy, Shion.”

Kinako reached for her empty plate, but Shion beat her to it. “I’ll take care of it. You took care of breakfast, so I can handle the dishes.”

“Oh, hush,” Kinako said. “You’re a guest. You shouldn’t have to do dishes.”

“Please. It’s no trouble.”

Kinako’s eyes narrowed as if she were about to insist, but quickly decided arguing with Shion wouldn't get here anywhere. “ _Such_ a sweet boy,” she repeated.

Shion gave her a warm smile, and then he turned to Nezumi. “Finished?” He eyeballed Nezumi’s half-full plate of eggs, his second helping, and near-empty glass of orange juice.

“Still working on it,” Nezumi mumbled.

Shion cleared the empty dishes and crossed to the sink. He deposited them into the silver basin, twisted the water to hot, and let the tub slowly fill up with water. He hummed softly as he waited, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he and Nezumi weren’t on the run from a deranged pharmaceutical company that would stop at nothing to see them captured.

At that moment, Nezumi wondered what it would be like to spend the rest of his life like this. In a warm house, going to sleep and waking up in the arms of the boy he’d dared to care for. How nice it would be to simply forget the Lab existed and abandon the nightmares.

It could never happen. A part of him had died alongside his parents, and he would never be whole until the Lab came crashing to the ground.

But for a second, just to imagine throwing it all away for a life of warmth with Shion….

“It’s such a lovely day,” Shion said. He looked out the window, at the sunlight, a warm snap that lanced through the cool autumn air. “Maybe later we could go spend some time outside―”

He broke off. The color drained from his face. Nezumi’s heart plunged to the floor as Shion spun away from the window. He looked horrified, the same way he’d looked after he’d blown out the glass in his mother’s bakery. Happiness skittered from his face, chased away by a primal terror that Nezumi knew all too well.

 _I knew it couldn’t last. We were careless_.

“Nezumi,” Shion gasped. “Nezumi, it’s _them_.”

The air in the kitchen tightened.

: _Shion, just stay calm_.:

“What do you mean, ‘It’s them’?” asked Kinako. She looked at Shion and then over at Nezumi. “What’s going on?”

“Nezumi,” said Shion, his voice high and strangled.

Looking at his horrified expression made Nezumi sick to his stomach. He stood up from the table, and Shion hurried away from the window. He crossed the kitchen in several long strides and latched to the front of Nezumi’s shirt. His fingers were white and trembling.

Shion’s eyes were wide, his pupils blown to engulf the brown of his iris. “We have to run. We can’t be here.”

Nezumi glanced at the window. Outside, the sunlight glimmered like a panel of glass, preventing him from seeing whatever was coming down the driveway. He wanted to reach out and see how many of them there were, but his focus needed to remain on Shion. Shion had worked hard on his self-control, but with the stress of being surrounded by Lab agents, Nezumi needed to keep his guard up.

"What are we going to do?” Shion whispered. “They've got us cornered. Where are we supposed to go?”

: _Calm down_.: Nezumi put his hands on Shion’s shoulders. Shion vibrated beneath his palms, as if someone had hollowed him out and stuffed him full of bees. : _Calm down. There’s gotta be a way, we just need to think_.:

Souta and Kinako Yoshida had huddled close together. Souta looked out the window, and Nezumi heard the crunching of gravel beneath several car tires. Souta’s face drained of color.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Who the hell’s after you kids?”

“How many of them are there?” Nezumi asked Shion.

“Too many,” Shion said miserably. “Four cars, and a van. A black van.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Nezumi cursed. The Yoshida’s house was set on a single road. There was no way for Shion and Nezumi to make a break for the woods and escape before the Lab agents got a read on them. Four cars and a van meant at least ten agents. No doubt the whole house would be flanked in a matter of moments.

“Boys?” Kinako’s voice had turned shrill with fright. “Who are these people? Are you wanted by the police or something?”

: _Remember why we practiced?_ : Nezumi thought. : _This is it. This is that moment_.:

Shion’s shoulders went rigid. “That’s—that’s not possible. I don’t know if I can do that.” Shion’s hands unclenched from the front of Nezumi’s shirt, but he kept his palms flat against his chest. “There are so many; I don’t know how to spread my focus like that.”

“We’re backed into a corner,” said Nezumi. He slipped his hand into the dark strands of Shion's hair and curled them around his fingers. He had begun to edge toward panic, but he forced himself to stay calm. He needed to be the voice of reason. He’d avoided the Lab through some close calls before. He’d escaped them for years. He was an unfortunate expert on the subject. “We’re out of options. The only way we’re getting out of here is by going forward.”

“I don’t want to hurt someone,” Shion said, his voice haunted.

“We’re just going to scare them,” assured Nezumi. “You won’t have to hurt anyone. Just scare them into realizing we aren’t people they want to mess with.”

Shion drew back and looked Nezumi in the eye. He looked exhausted. His eyes were wide and wet, and Nezumi could see himself reflected in them.

“OK,” Shion began, his voice quiet. “OK, Nezumi. Let’s do it.”

“Good. Trust me,” Nezumi said, the words tasting like poison on his tongue, “everything’s going to be fine.”

**⁂**

“Good morning, boys,” said the woman. She was wearing a black pantsuit and a thin cardigan tossed over her shoulders. Her hair was dark and twisted on top of her head in a thin braid.

Behind her, Nezumi spotted Hawk with his familiar scowl. Mountain stood next to the car, arms folded over his massive chest. Several cars came to a screeching halt on the driveway. Four cars and a van, just as Shion had said.

Thirteen agents in total, counting the woman, Hawk, and Mountain.

Nezumi’s jaw clenched.

“Leave,” said Shion. He stood beside Nezumi on the Yoshidas’ front porch. “Leave right now.”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” replied the woman, pointedly ignoring Shion. “My name is Takaya Mirai. I’m here to—”

“We don’t care why you’re here!” Shion snapped. Nezumi felt a pulse in the air around them, a brief shift before it settled again.

Mirai shrugged. “Whether you care or not is irrelevant. I have my orders. Now, you boys can come with me and make this easy, or I can have my friends escort you. I believe you’re already well acquainted with Akagi and Fudo.”

Hawk sneered, and Mountain cracked his knuckles.

"If I were in your shoes,” Mirai continued, “I’d come quiet, and let that nice couple go on with their day in peace.”

“Go away,” Shion said.

Nezumi spoke and was pleased to find that his voice was strong and steady. “We’re not interested in going anywhere with you. You must have been briefed on what Shion can do. You must have also been briefed on what _I_ can do.”

Two of the men in their black uniforms exchanged nervous glances.

Hawk’s piercing eyes narrowed, no doubt reliving his humiliating defeat in the alley. Nezumi wondered how difficult it was for him and Mountain to admit their failure to their superiors.

“I’ve been informed of your…situation, yes,” replied Mirai carefully. “Look, I think you have the completely wrong idea about us. If you come with me, we can explain everything. None of us want to hurt you.”

The four men in black uniforms had begun to fan out around them. Nezumi’s eyes flickered to them all. Each of them had guns on their hips. _Shit_.

“And _we_ don’t want to hurt _you_ ,” Shion said. He looked deep into Mirai’s eyes, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Please, just leave us alone.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, honey,” Mirai answered.

The front door banged open, and Souta Yoshida stormed out onto the porch. Nezumi didn’t turn to look at him, but he could hear the loud thump of his shoes on the wood.

“Excuse me.” Souta stepped around Nezumi and stood on the top step. He folded his arms. “This is private property. I want you people to leave immediately.”

Shion sucked in a sharp breath, and Nezumi’s throat tightened.

The cluster of agents reached for the guns at their belts. Mirai shot them a quick warning glance and their hands went still, albeit reluctantly.

“We’re with Horizon Laboratories, sir,” she said. “The Department of Public Relations.” She plastered a pleasant smile on her face and went on. “These two are wanted for a series of criminal charges. Please put your hands in the air and go back inside. This doesn’t concern you.”

“I don’t care if you’re with the goddamn Emperor himself,” Souta Yoshida spat. “These two are _children!_ Who brings guns to deal with children? I want you and your men off my property this instant. I won’t tell you again.”

“Sir,” Mirai said, her voice edged with darkness despite the smile on her face. “You’re making a mistake. We’re the good guys.”

Nezumi felt Shion shift at his side. The hairs on the nape of his neck rose. It felt like the start of a big thunderstorm—electricity crackling through his skin.

“First of all,” Souta sneered, “I don’t appreciate your men tearing up the front yard with those cars of theirs. Your van’s also parked on my grass and, from the looks of it, in my wife’s garden, so I suggest you move it before I call the police. That’s destruction of property.”

“The police are well aware of our presence here.” Mirai’s voice began to inch toward that frustrated, entitled snap Nezumi had heard from women in the supermarket when someone told them their coupons had expired three weeks ago. “As I said, these young men are wanted for criminal offenses. They’re _fugitives_. And just so you’re aware, I could have you and your wife arrested for harboring them.”

“Is that right?” Souta planted his feet and folded his arms. “Show me a warrant and I’ll be happy to hand them over to you. Until you do, get the fuck off my property.”

Kinako edged around the front door. She gestured to Shion and Nezumi. “Come inside, boys,” she said, projecting her voice so the agents could hear. “Sou, I’m calling the police.”

“You heard her, right?” Souta gestured to the front gates. “Take your men and go before we get the _real_ cops here.”

Nezumi felt a foreign spike of admiration in his chest. These two virtual strangers had placed themselves on the receiving end of the Lab’s anger just to protect two teenagers they knew next to nothing about. The two days Nezumi had spent with them had convinced him there was no ill intent in their hearts, and any suspicion he’d had that they might be working with the Lab went fluttering out the window.

From the corner of his eye, Nezumi spotted four of the agents beginning to flank around the front porch. They were less than ten meters away, and the sunlight caught against the barrels of their guns. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes and Reached out to the agent closest to him―a young-looking guy with a gaunt face and pale eyes. He began with something gentle and easy to swallow: a brief flicker of doubt that he was on the correct side.

Nezumi’s silent urgings were knocked aside like a buzzing gnat, and Nezumi bit back a curse. He should have figured scramblers would be involved.

“Get back!” Souta barked. Shion’s shoulders jolted at the sudden sound. He edged closer to Nezumi, visibly shaken. All the bravado on his face seemed to have leached away as he beheld the horde of agents edging closer. “Take one step further and I swear to God, I’ll get the police.”

“Oh, please do,” Mirai hissed, all kindness vanishing. She gestured to Hawk, and he stepped forward. “Buddy, you’re interfering in a federal matter you know nothing about. I don’t know what ridiculous story these two have spun, but I assure you, they’re not what you think they are. I suggest you get back inside before this gets worse for you.”

“Bullshit, you’re a pharmaceutical company. I’m not an idiot. What business do you have arresting people?” Souta waved his hand to Shion and Nezumi. “What, did they expose corruption in your little organization or something? _Good_. The less we have to deal with big companies like you thinking you can just buy your way out of trouble, the better.”

Hawk exhaled, hard. “This is ridiculous. Sir,” he raised his voice, “you have two options. Go back inside and stay out of this, or we’ll _make_ you.”

Mountain cracked his knuckles again.

“How _dare_ you threaten me in my own home.” Souta’s whole body shook. He looked ready to unleash another bout of colorful expletives.

Mirai took a step forward, raising her hands. “Listen, before this gets out of hand, let’s just talk for a moment. I understand why you doubt us. We just rolled onto your lawn and didn’t introduce ourselves. I promise I’ll explain everything once we’ve taken these two into custody, but, sir, believe me when I tell you that those boys are dangerous. They may look harmless, but they have more power than you could ever guess at.”

Nezumi’s hands clenched at his sides. The four agents had moved too close to dodge. Trying to lunge at one of them would result in a hail of bullets from the six others lurking around the yard. Souta had edged between them and the line of fire, but Nezumi didn’t want to turn him into a human shield. Somehow he didn’t think the Lab would mind a few civilian casualties.

“Shion,” Kinako called from the doorway. “Nezumi, honey, just get back in the house. We’ll handle this.”

“Don’t move,” Mirai ordered.

“I’m not telling you again!” Souta snarled. “Get the fuck off my property—”

Something exploded near Nezumi’s bare foot. He sprang back with a breathless cry, knocking his shoulder into Shion’s chin. Shion grunted in surprise, his fingers tightened on the back of Nezumi’s shirt.

A small divot had burrowed into the wooden porch. Hawk’s gun was up and cocked. He must have pulled it out in the middle of the arguing.

“Are you _insane?_ ” Souta roared.

“What is _wrong_ with you, Akagi?” Mirai bellowed, whirling on her companion. “Did I say fire? Did I say _anything_ like that?”

“That was a warning shot,” Hawk shouted, looking over Mirai’s head and glaring at Nezumi and Shion. “Do you hear me? The next one goes in the old man’s skull.”

"You’re out of line!” Mirai drove her hand against Hawk’s shoulder, knocking him back toward the car. “I knew it was a mistake to bring you! Get in the car, now. You can damn well bet I’m reporting this to HQ.”

“Kinako!” Souta’s face had turned a furious shade of scarlet. “Kinako, call the fucking cops!”

Nezumi’s heart pounded in his throat. His eyes darted to Hawk, to the barrel of his gun, and to Souta. There was no chance for him to shove Shion inside the house, pushing past Kinako who stood horrified in the doorway, and make a break for it without the agents catching them.

: _Shion_ ,: Nezumi thought, : _if you were going to do something, now might―_ :

He could feel something burning in the air all around him. Nezumi’s chest tightened, but he tried to relax. Shion had been practicing. He’d had enough control to lift heavy crates with only a thought. Shion might not have perfect control of his powers, but if he could cause enough of a stir for the agents to get distracted, then the two of them could make a break for it.

Their supplies were upstairs, tucked in the guest bedroom along with their jackets. Nezumi’s boots were inside the door, sitting beside Shion’s sneakers on the mat Kinako kept by the hat rack. If they took off now, they would be abandoning everything. They’d be off in the woods with no supplies for winter and no hope for survival.

 _Not now_ , Nezumi told himself. _Not fucking now_. They just needed to get away first. Agreeing to this had been a mistake. Leniency and desire were pointless luxuries that had gotten them cornered, and they couldn’t fall victim to it again.

Shion’s fingers relaxed from the back of Nezumi’s shirt. Electricity crackled in the air around them, so heavy it was bound to break any second. 

“You fucks!” Souta was bellowing. “Come onto my property, firing guns at children! Get out! God help me, if you’re still here when the police arrive—”

“Watch the kid!” Hawk shouted, his voice rising above Mirai’s shrill shrieking at him to _stand down, just stand down, goddammit_.

Two of the men on the edge of the porch began to advance, their hands going for the guns. One of them was closer to Nezumi than he would have liked, so close he could make out the small red bud of the scrambler nestled in his ear canal.

Shion slowly turned his face toward them. As he did, the two other agents took a step toward Souta as if they would rip him off the porch just to get to Shion and Nezumi.

They didn’t make it another step.

Shion exhaled.

Nezumi felt something drift behind him, and then all four of the men went staggering back as if they’d been punched in the face. They dropped their weapons in shock, four black handguns landing on the gravel driveway. The agents tripped over their own feet and sprawled onto the dirt with a series of pained grunts.

"What the—,” Hawk blurted.

The remaining agents grasped desperately for their guns and tasers.

There was a loud crunch, like metal screaming, and Nezumi’s shoulders shot to his ears. Souta spun around wildly, alerted by the sound but uncertain of the source. Nezumi was too, at first, until he saw the front of the transport van beginning to cave in on itself.

 _Oh_ , Nezumi thought.

The transport van and circle of cars began to flip, one by one. Or rather, it was more as if they were being picked up by the front bumper and tossed across the driveway.

From the doorway, Kinako shrieked. Souta’s foot caught a loose floorboard, and he fell back with a loud thump.

Mirai’s pristine black car went careening into the fence. The gas tank punctured on the heavy wooden spikes, spilling black blood onto the dirt. She yelped in surprise and threw her arms up over her head.

The front end of the transport van whined and crumpled in like a soda can, plastic and glass splintering from the headlights as if a large hand had crushed it. The wheels locked up and slid on the ground, kicking up gravel and dirt. It swung around and crashed into the front gate with a sickening crunch.

With a piercing screech, the car parked on the other side of Mirai’s collapsed in on itself. The rear window splintered to bits. The license plate was ripped off the front end and went sailing towards the large group of agents’ faces, causing them to dive out of the way or risk being decapitated. They looked like fat black flies dodging a flyswatter.

“ _Shion_.” Nezumi whirled to look at the boy standing next to him.

“I’m sick of them,” Shion snarled. The ends of his hair were transparent in the morning sunlight. “I want them to _leave_.”

The wooden banister of the porch trembled. Mirai was shouting something to her colleagues. Her voice was drowned out by the crunching of cars.

“Shion,” Nezumi said again. He had wanted to scare them, but he needed to stop Shion before something terrible happened. He Reached out and felt the solid wall of stone preventing him from accessing Shion’s mind. There was some semblance of control—some lingering, otherworldly version of mastery in the way Shion’s telekinesis was working. Shion seemed to be in full command of where he directed his powers, but something was wrong with it all.

“Shion,” Nezumi said through his teeth. “That’s enough.”

Mirai staggered to her feet. Her dark hair had come out from its bun and fell in tangles around her face. She snarled at the ten agents scrambling around the driveway, avoiding the crunching metal and showers of broken glass.

“Stop them!” Hawk was shrieking. “For God’s sake, stop them!”

Mountain reached for the taser at his side, but it was useless from this distance.

Shion looked toward Mountain, spotting the taser in his grasp, and it sparked. Mountain dropped it in shock, and Shion’s eyes widened, just a bit. Before the taser hit the ground, it twisted around to face its previous wielder, went off again with a loud _bzzt_ , and struck him in the shin. Mountain crumpled to his knees with an agonized grunt.

Hawk fired his gun again, but Mirai knocked against him, throwing off his aim. A window on the second floor burst apart in a shower of glass.

Kinako shrieked.

“Stop it!” Mirai bellowed. “Stop it, you’re only making it worse!”

“Get out of the way!” Hawk roared.

Kinako was shouting her husband’s name, over and over. Nezumi’s stomach plunged, but he couldn’t look away from Shion. Couldn’t turn away from the indifference painted across his face as he watched the agents scramble to their feet amidst the chaos.

Nezumi clenched his jaw and tried to Reach out to Shion. He tried to catch Shion’s eye and press forward, urging him to calm down, to take a moment and realize what he was doing. : _You’ve done well_ ,: Nezumi thought, weaving the thought together and nudging it forward. : _But there’s no need for more. You’ve caused enough of a distraction_.:

Shion’s cold expression didn’t change.

: _You’ve done enough_.: Nezumi’s jaw clenched as a dull pain formed above his left eyebrow. : _It’s enough, Shion_.:

“Stop it.” Shion’s voice was low and dangerous. “I want them to leave.”

“I know,” Nezumi said gently. He edged forward, Reaching out and pressing into Shion’s mind the way he’d tried the first night they met. He knew Shion. He knew the way his mind worked, understood the twist of his synapses and the flow of his thoughts. : _You did well, Shion, and I’m proud of you. But we need to leave before they call for backup. So, calm down, and we can—_ :

“I said, _stop it!_ ” Shion physically twisted away, and Nezumi felt something heavy slam into him. A fierce pain sliced through his head, spiking down his face like a bolt of lightning. He staggered back a step, his bare foot catching on a loose floorboard. He nearly went sprawling, and his hand darted out to catch the railing.

Nezumi gasped, agonizing pain flaring up beneath his eyes. It prickled across his cheeks like a bad sunburn, his skin tightening.

Shion was standing in the middle of the porch, looking out at the chaos as if he were simply watching the clouds drift by.

Nezumi felt something pop in the corner of his nose. It was a feeling he was all-too-familiar with; an unwelcome sensation that plagued him in the dry winter months. The trickling wetness momentarily distracted him from the rapidly forming headache, and Nezumi had enough sense to form a single, tangible thought: _My nose is bleeding_.

“Stop! We need to capture them!” Mirai was shouting, beating her hands against Hawk’s arm. “We need to capture them alive, dammit!”

“Not that one!” In his periphery, Nezumi watched as Hawk pointed his finger at Shion. “Not that _monster_.”

“Akagi!” Mirai ordered. “Stand down!”

Hawk shoved Mirai to the ground, lifted his gun, and aimed it at Shion.

Nezumi saw red. He Reached out, not caring if there was a scrambler in Hawk’s ear, not caring if he was useless. If he could strike Hawk before his finger clamped around the trigger, somehow Push through the scrambler and knock him unconscious—

Hawk was lifted in the air. His feet swung out beneath him. His gun dropped to the ground and went off, the bullet lodging into the lower step of the porch. He scratched at his throat, attempting to dislodge the invisible manacles from around his neck.

“Shion,” Nezumi bellowed, turning, “what are you—”

Shion’s expression was murderous. In that instant, he wasn’t human. He was some monstrous otherworldly creature that looked out at the fools who had dared to challenge him.

Nezumi’s stomach dropped to his feet.

“Please—” Hawk choked, his face going red.

Nezumi saw Shion’s jaw twitch.

Hawk was launched like a rag doll. He flew back without a sound, over the heads of the other agents, over the tops of the destroyed cars and broken fences. Shion had sent him flying, not looking where he was tossing him—or perhaps he _had_ been looking.

Hawk landed on the front gate. The wooden spikes, broken from the transport van, jagged from countless storms and weathered age, pierced through his neck and stomach with a thick squelching sound.

**⁂**

Hawk didn’t die immediately.

He twitched like a hooked fish, his mouth open with blood pouring from both corners. He made a low, gurgling sound, like a cow being sent off to slaughter.

Mirai shrieked.

The nine agents took off running for the street. None of them looked back, ducking their heads and raising their arms as they retreated.

Nezumi sprang across the porch and punched Shion in the jaw.

Shion recoiled from the strike. It hadn't hurt him in the way it should have hurt someone who was unprepared for combat. His dark eyes were wide and vacant. For a moment he looked stunned and furious and hurt—and then he looked right at Nezumi.

There was a time, Nezumi remembered, when he was very little. He’d been playing in the backyard when his father told him it was time to come in for dinner. Nezumi, not wanting to stop playing in the mud, stuck his tongue out and shouted that his father wasn’t the boss of him.

After several failed attempts to order Nezumi inside, his father stormed across the yard until he loomed right over Nezumi. He bared his teeth, sharp and serrated at the edges. “Get in the house,” he hissed, and he was so cold and terrifying that Nezumi dashed inside without a word.

Shion looked much the same way. Nezumi braced himself as he felt a sudden pressure on his shoulders and around his neck.

Nezumi reached out and pressed against the wall of resistance clouding Shion’s mind. : _Shion, it's me. It's_ me.: He kept his hands at his sides, kept his lips closed and his eyes wide.

Shion’s head tilted to the side.

And then it was gone. The stone wall dropped. Nezumi clamped down on him immediately. He pressed on the spike of power and contained it. Whatever objects had been hovering in the air dropped to the ground with a deafening crash.

Shion’s hands flew to his face. He peered through his long fingers, glancing around with dreamlike slowness at the fire and destruction and scattered agents around him. “N-N-Nezumi—”

Nezumi reached out to grasp his shoulders. “Shion….”

“You’re…you’re bleeding!” Shion’s hands trembled. “What…” He surveyed the damage from between his fingers. He looked at the ruined cars, the destroyed fence surrounding the garden—and then he spotted Hawk’s body impaled on the fence.

Shion screamed, a slow-building, wordless sound of dismay and horror.

Nezumi rushed forward. He reached out for Shion again, feeling an overwhelming flood of fear and self-loathing and pain. He grabbed Shion’s arms and pulled him close. He was afraid. So afraid that his mind had shattered and there was no way to piece it back together.

Shion struggled against him, and Nezumi held. He reached out with his mind at the same time he was pressing Shion into the curve of his neck. : _It's OK, Shion_.: There was a piercing needle of agony flaring up behind his left eye. Nezumi was all too aware of the blood dripping from his nose, painting his lips with copper. : _It’s OK. I’ve got you_.:

Shion continued to scream. He twisted and writhed and finally went limp. The scream cut off with a breathless puff of air, as if someone had struck him in the base of the skull. Nezumi caught him as he slumped to the ground.

“You're OK,” Nezumi murmured, guiding Shion to the porch. He brushed his fingers over Shion’s forehead, feeling sweat beaded on his skin.

Shion was a limp weight in his arms. Had he always been this small? He hadn't looked small a minute ago. It had seemed, to Nezumi, at least, that Shion had been an omnipresent weight pressing down around the driveway.

Over near the front gate, Mountain rushed around Hawk’s body, hurrying after the other agents. Hawk had finally gone still against the spiked fence. Blood poured from his parted lips, peppering the ground as if someone had scattered thick rubies.

 _Shion did that_ , thought Nezumi, feeling detached and weightless and sick. _Shion did that_.

Nezumi picked Shion up in his arms. Shion’s head rolled against his shoulder. The air was hot and rich with the stench of boiling oil. Little fires had already crawled across the lawn, and there were broken hunks of metal and old car parts littered across the driveway.

Souta Yoshida was leaning against the front door, his legs splayed out in front of him. Kinako knelt at his side, pressing her hands against his bicep. Neither of them had been hurt in the chaos, but Souta gawked at the destruction strewn across his driveway.

Lips trembling, Souta looked up at Nezumi. His face had gone an ashy gray, blank with shock. He was breathing heavily. There was no recognition in his eyes. He saw nothing and no one, and he didn’t respond to his wife’s fragile whimpers at his side.

Nezumi took a step towards them, and Kinako darted forward. She threw herself across her husband’s lap. Her eyes glittered with terrified hatred.

“Get away,” she spat. “Get away from us, you _monsters_.”

A sharp pang shot through his stomach at the venom in her voice, but his face betrayed no emotion.

“Monsters?” echoed Nezumi. Without Shion to focus on containing, it was nothing at all to reach out to both Kinako and Souta’s minds. : _What are you talking about? You’ve never seen us before_.:

Kinako looked at him as if she had a great many obscenities to hurl in his face—and then her eyes went wide and her expression went slack. “Wah… huh?” Her lips flapped for a moment, and then she looked around at the mess of her front yard and muttered, “What happened to the driveway?”

“Spontaneous combustion, faulty gas tank, I don’t know,” replied Nezumi with a shrug. “Once we’re off your property, you won’t remember either of us. It’s not my problem anymore.”

It was so easy. His suggestions sunk into their minds like a knife through butter; they wanted to forget. “No, it’s not your problem,” agreed Souta with a drunken nod. His eyes were glazed, his eyelids drooping, and Nezumi hoped he could manage to get out of harm’s way before he passed out.

It was getting warm. A puff of wind blew a coil of dying embers across the porch. Nezumi turned on his heel and carried Shion down the stairs. Hawk had been left on the fence, crimson dribbling down the wooden posts. There was nothing left of the remaining agents. They had taken to the streets on foot, abandoning their mutilated cars. Mirai must have followed after them, terrified of meeting the same fate as her coworker.

 _A tactless retreat_ , Nezumi thought. The agents hadn’t been anticipating such carnage, but Nezumi wasn’t foolish enough to think they’d stay away forever. He and Shion needed to leave before they came back with reinforcements.

Nezumi did a quick survey of the yard. Everything had erupted into chaos in an instant, but an eerie calm had settled in the morning air. Nezumi was thankful the Yoshidas didn’t have neighbors. It would be easier to slip away without witnesses.

Kinako’s car sat beside the house, untouched by Shion’s rampage. Nezumi knew where she kept the keys. He’d watched her plop them in a porcelain bowl by the landline, trusting that the two homeless teens she’d welcomed into her home wouldn’t steal away in the middle of the night with most of their valuables.

The thought of hijacking their car made Nezumi’s stomach clench. He avoided cars in general, as they were too easy to track, but he didn’t think he could carry Shion away from the carnage before the Lab came flooding back.

Nezumi took a shaking step toward Kinako’s car—and then, in his periphery, he spotted a mound of black.

It was a small sedan, tucked beneath a makeshift garage made up of a blue tarp and a few wooden beams. Nezumi was sure he’d spotted it when he was helping Souta carry salt across the lawn, but cars had become so insignificant to him that he’d looked it over, made a quick note that it existed, and promptly ignored it.

Nezumi made a beeline for the sedan. His heart hammered in his ribcage, his vision turning red and fuzzy at the corners. Using his forearm to support Shion’s weight, Nezumi grasped the door handle to the backseat driver’s side door and yanked it.

The door creaked open, and Nezumi’s stomach dropped. The Yoshidas were too trusting. The inside of the sedan was dark and cold; it smelled and looked fresh, as if it had just recently gone through a thorough cleaning.

Nezumi eased Shion into the backseat, maneuvering him onto his side. Shion had gone completely limp, and it was nothing at all to reposition his limbs so he was curled on the pale grey cloth of the backseat.

Nezumi shut Shion inside and ripped the driver’s side door open. He wondered if the Yoshidas kept the keys in the ceramic bowl, too.

He yanked down the visor, quickly inspecting the vehicle, and a pair of keys fell with a thump onto the front seat.

Nezumi exhaled, his breath puffing out like smoke in the cold.

Seizing the keys, Nezumi closed the doors and sprinted, barefoot, toward the backdoor. He knew the Yoshidas had unlocked it first thing that morning. He ripped the door open and rushed inside.

Once upstairs, Nezumi shoved his arms into the sleeves of his leather jacket and seized the backpack from the corner Shion had placed it in. He grabbed Shion’s jacket from its little ball on the floor and stuffed it under his arm. He didn’t waste time on the toiletries in the bathroom, though he did take a brief moment to wad up some toilet paper and jam it into his still-bleeding nostril. It had slowed down a bit, at least.

Nezumi turned to leave—and something caught his eye. The plush comforter strewn across the guest bed, still rumpled from the night before, looked inviting and warm.

Nezumi ripped it from the bed, crushing it against his chest. He snatched up one of the pillows, too, and made a break for the stairs.

He dropped his newly acquired treasures on the floor next to his shoes. Kinako and Souta were still sitting outside, stunned by the destruction laid out before them and zoned out by Nezumi’s mind-manipulation. Nezumi jammed his feet into his boots, then nabbed Shion’s sneakers. His arms were full and it was difficult to carry everything, but Nezumi somehow managed to cart the blanket, pillow, and backpack outside to the sedan.

Nezumi yanked the back door open and dropped Shion’s sneakers on the floor. Shion hadn’t stirred, still curled on his side. His breath came out in gentle puffs of smoke, and he shivered instinctively from the cold.

Nezumi draped the queen-sized blanket over him, tucking it quickly around his legs and shoulders. He leaned over Shion and gently propped his head up, just enough to wedge the pillow beneath him. Shion exhaled and burrowed into the warmth provided by the stolen bedding.

Nezumi hopped into the front seat, placing the backpack on the passenger’s seat. He shut the door quietly, then jammed the key into the ignition.

It took a few tries to get the sedan to start. As soon as it roared to life, Nezumi took a quick look at the gauges. Half a tank of gas. Plenty to get them the hell out of Dodge and well away from the death and destruction.

Nezumi cranked the heat and threw the car into reverse. The windows were fogged from the early morning chill, but Nezumi twisted the wheel and pressed on the gas.

The sedan shot backward out of the small garage. Nezumi threw the car into drive and peeled out across the Yoshidas’ front lawn. The tire tracks wouldn’t look suspicious among the mutilated cars Shion had flung around. As soon as they left the yard, the Yoshidas would forget their faces, their names, the days they’d spent providing shelter and food and kindness to them.

Nezumi bit his lower lip. _Not now_.

From the backseat, Shion sighed and hid his face in the pillow.

Nezumi floored it down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	22. Bleed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, everyone! Happy Monday! We hope you're all doing well. Here we are with another chapter of _Beyond the Horizon_. We're thrilled to share another one with you, and we hope you enjoy it! Thank you for all of your support and comments. It really means a lot to us!

Nezumi drove nonstop all throughout the morning, hardly knowing where he was going. The only impetus was to put distance between him and the carnage they’d left behind. He felt like a man possessed, dogged by an evil that would catch up and sink its teeth into his sanity if he slowed for even a second. As long as he kept driving and not thinking past the next light, the next turn, he would be safe.

Reality didn’t exist in the shadowed interior of the sedan. There was only the rumble of the tires over asphalt, the heat’s hiss from the vents, and Shion’s silent, prone form draped over the back seat. Nezumi checked on him occasionally, but he couldn’t look too long, and he had a sinking awareness that he might not have been able to look even that much if the glances weren’t snatched through the secrecy of the rearview mirror.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think at all. Nezumi kept his foot jammed down on the accelerator and used the brakes sparingly. He was fortunate that they didn’t get stopped by any police, because Nezumi was going well over the speed limit for far too much of the drive and he didn’t have a license.

Eventually, though, the arrow on the gas gauge inched its way into the red and Nezumi knew he would have to face reality again. Nezumi’s breaths came in shallow as he eased to the side of the road on the outskirts of a sleepy town and pulled into the dingy little gas station there.

By then, the sun had sunk low into the frothy clouds like a freshly sprung yolk, and the shadows stretched wraithlike over the ground. Nezumi pulled up next to a pump and sat for a moment with the engine running. He checked the rearview mirror. Shion had turned over at some point, and all Nezumi could see was the back of his head, his dark hair snarled from brushing against the pillow over and over again.

 _Turn the engine off. Get the gas,_ Nezumi told himself. He wished his powers worked on his own mind. _Get the gas, and then get going again._

The Lab had never felt as close as this before. Nezumi had always been paranoid—he never stopped being on edge—but he could usually find his peace of mind when he was on the run. He was always ready, but never rushed.

But his heart would not stop skittering now. It made his bones feel like they were vibrating. Every beat sent a jolt of fear down his spine, and he had to check the view from every window several times to reassure himself that there were no sleek cruisers, and no black-suited figures waiting to spring from the shadows. The only persons he saw were a thirty-something woman filling up two pumps away and a single shop attendant inside the gas station convenience store.

Nezumi finally convinced himself to exit the car and cram the gas nozzle into the fuel filler. The young woman looked over at him and did a double take. Nezumi’s heart leapt into his throat.

Why? What was she looking at? Was she one of _them_?

The woman blinked rapidly, confusion and concern clouding her face. Nezumi stared her down hard, probing her for a scrambler or ill intent, but neither could be detected. The woman’s expression crumpled and she averted her gaze and focused on her gas pump, which had just clicked to signal it was finished.

Nezumi dropped his leer and focused on his own nozzle. She didn’t seem to be a part of Horizon Labs. But then, staying at the Yoshidas didn’t seem like a threat, and look at what happened. Nezumi swallowed and swallowed, but the lump building in his throat was not going away.

His nozzle clicked and he shoved it back into place on the pump. The station was the sort that required one to go inside to pay. Nezumi took his slip and went into the convenience store without alerting Shion. He didn’t want to bother him, as he appeared to be sleeping. He would only be a minute or two paying, and even if the Lab did show up, Shion had proven he could more than take care of himself….

 _It’s fine. It’s fine._ Nezumi mumbled the phrase to himself as he walked into the store.

The attendant was a youngish blond man with a big nose and droopy eyes. He looked like he was fighting off a cold, because he kept sniffling and sighing and swiping at his nose. He flinched when he looked up at Nezumi.

“Dude… Uh, sir. You have blood on your face.”

Nezumi blinked. He touched under his nose. _Oh. Right._

Now that he thought about it, he still had the wad of toilet paper crammed into it and the inside of his nostrils were sharp and sticky from the dried blood. No wonder that woman in the lot looked terrified.

“Oh,” Nezumi said, trying to find his voice after hours of panicked silence. “Nosebleed,” he finished rather lamely and unnecessarily. “Sorry, can I clean up in your bathroom? I’ll pay right after, but this is,” he smiled sheepishly, “a little uncomfortable. For everybody.”

The attendant gave a light snort and sniped at his own nose. “Yeah, sure, man. It’s in the back, past the dairy cases.”

It was a single-person use bathroom, and for that Nezumi was grateful. He locked the door behind him the moment he slipped inside and approached the mirror.

Nezumi grimaced. His upper lip and chin were smeared red with the sticky residue of his mental battle with Shion. It was astounding he hadn’t noticed sooner; the tightness of his skin was impossible to ignore now and his discomfort skyrocketed. The front of his shirt was also spattered in places. He looked as much a mess as he felt.

Nezumi plucked the soiled piece of paper from his nose and dropped it in the trash, then he ran the hot water and scrubbed at his face, so hard his skin was pink and sore afterward. But it was blood-free, and that was all that mattered. Nezumi stared down at the brown caked beneath his fingernails, and through his partially cleared nostrils, he could smell the sweet metallic tang of iron. He could taste it at the back of his throat like a caustic memory.

Images exploded behind his eyes: The crumpled form of his mother lying in the hall, her eyes locked forever on him in wide-eyed fear; his father, large and vicious and more powerful than anyone Nezumi had ever known, riddled through with holes, his dark blood seeping through the pale wooden grooves of the cabin floor; his grandmother, cold as ice and half buried in the snow; Hawk’s body, pinned like an insect on the wooden spikes of the front gate, the wet choking sound of his panic bursting from his lips as his life slipped away.

And Shion, his face ugly and twisted in hatred, wrecking destruction with a single thought—only for his anger to crumple and gasp, and leave the boy Nezumi knew a shivering, terrified husk of himself.

Nezumi _never_ wanted to see either of those looks on Shion’s face. He never wanted Shion to bear the hatred and guilt that Nezumi had carried with him all his life, but he hadn’t been able to protect him. And now Shion would never be the same.

Nezumi whirled for the toilet and emptied his stomach into it, only barely snatching his loose hair back. He kneeled on the dirty tiled floor and gripped the sides of the porcelain bowl for several sour breaths after.

He hated his weakness. After he watched the Lab slaughter everyone he loved, Nezumi had promised himself he would never be paralyzed by fear again. He wouldn’t give Horizon Labs the satisfaction of knowing they could break him. But he was powerless against the disgust clawing through his veins, the self-loathing rising like bile in his throat.

Because this was not about him; this was about Shion. And he could do nothing to save him from the horrors of his reality, short of violating his mind.

 _Stop. You have to stop. You can’t do this right now. You can’t do this_ ever. Because the nightmare never ended. The Lab was Nezumi’s shadow, and as long as the sun dawned on another day, he would find it nipping at his heels.

_If you can’t pull it together for yourself, then do it for Shion._

Nezumi wished now more than ever that he had never stumbled upon Shion in that bakery in Lost Town. That Shion had never given him his heart to guard, and that Nezumi had never given his in return. Loving someone was the worst pain and a person’s greatest weakness, and despite every survival instinct screaming at him, Nezumi knew that he would rather die than watch Shion be harmed—or do harm—again.

Nezumi waited until his heart had slowed its pace and his trembling subsided. Then he rose. He rinsed his mouth out, pulled his hair back from his wan face, and made his sluggish brain cobble together a rational train of thought.

They needed to switch cars immediately. He had erased the Yoshidas’ minds of his and Shion’s presence, but they were bound to notice their car missing eventually, and since Nezumi had not given them any instructions to ignore the fact, they would report it missing.

A gas station was as good a place as any to steal a car.

Once they’d switched cars, they needed a place to lie low. Somewhere isolated and far away where they could regain their bearings and repair their battered psyches. That was the harder bit…. But he’d figure it out.

_First, get a new car._

Nezumi exited the bathroom. Through the glass of the front door, he could see that the woman who was there when they arrived had gone, but another car had pulled up in her place. It was a dark blue SUV and, although mud-splattered from the recent rain, it looked to be in relatively good condition. Not new, but still nice, and Nezumi liked the idea of a car with a higher ground clearance.

The car’s owner, an older dark-haired gentleman, was filling up at the pump, and looked about finished. Nezumi’s scanty plan began to develop more clearly.

He approached the desk attendant and the man smiled when he caught sight of him.

“Oh, hey, man,” he said through a sniffle. “You all good now?”

“Yes, thank you. I was wondering if you might be able to help with one other thing…?”

The attendant’s brow furrowed, but he said, “Sure. What can I do for you?”

Nezumi smiled pleasantly and leveled the full force of his powers at the man. “Forget about my bill and that you ever saw me. Also, once I walk out of the store, ignore everything you see for the next ten minutes.”

Nezumi thanked the powers that be that the attendant was dim, and sick, and weak-willed. His mind folded as easily as paper, and Nezumi deftly smoothed out any wrinkles of doubt or resistance.

The attendant nodded slowly. “Forget you and ignore everything. Sure, I can do that. I mean, I don’t know you anyway, so that’s not hard!”

He laughed at his joke and Nezumi smiled indulgently as he continued to project waves of calm and trust and general befuddlement into the man’s brain. Nezumi glanced up at the security camera over the counter.

“Does that work?”

The man twisted around. “Oh, yeah, nah. It’s fake.”

“Any real ones outside by the pumps?”

“Nope. This place has shitty security. I mean, _the worst._ We could be robbed anytime and no one would be able to catch the guys.” He laughed again, a little more hysterically.

People sometimes tended toward manic or hysterical when Nezumi used his powers on them. That reaction happened either when his subject was so under his influence they became unrestrained chatterboxes, or when their minds noticed the discrepancy between what was coming out of their mouths and how much they knew they shouldn’t be saying it. He never knew which was the source of the hysteria until the person turned suspicious and started fighting his sway.

Nezumi couldn’t afford suspicious right now. He decided to cut this session short.

“Thank you,” he said to the man. “Now, remember, I was never here and nothing happened outside after I left.”

The attendant nodded and watched with vacant happiness as Nezumi left the store.

The owner of the blue SUV had just finished up and replaced the nozzle. His expression immediately turned guarded when he noticed Nezumi’s approach.

Nezumi’s heart beat hummingbird fast and fear pooled in his stomach, but the plan had already been set into motion and he had no choice but to proceed.

“Hello,” Nezumi said, and then immediately launched his power at the man. The fingers of his Influence dug like grappling hooks into the fortress walls of the man’s mind. “You’re going to give me your car.”

The man went rigid as the suggestion ripped through him, and his consciousness bucked against Nezumi’s attempt at soothing. “Wha… No? Why would I...?”

Nezumi gritted his teeth and burrowed deeper to wrangle the thoughts into obedience. “You will give me your car,” he hissed, pushing against the mental resistance and the warning pounding behind his eyes, “and tell everyone you sold it.”

The man’s face twisted into a grimace of fear and confusion, and Nezumi felt a piece of his mind give a little.

Nezumi flinched as a sudden influx of images and emotions tainted his hold: The man laughing with abandon as he signed for the car, singing with his wife and children in it, long trips and offroading with the windows down under the hot summer sun. Nezumi had cracked open a cache of car-related memories, and the second hand emotion was stifling. This man _loved_ this car. He had saved up for years to buy it and never wanted to own anything else.

Nezumi grit his teeth against the mental drift and tried to shove it away. He had never experienced this before. Up until now, he knew better than to press his luck with someone who resisted his influence; he could always find another target.

But he had no other choice now.

“What _are_ you?” gasped the man. His eyes were teary from battling against Nezumi’s exhortations, and he wore the same tense, wide-eyed expression as Kinako had worn when she accused him and Shion of being monsters. Disgust and terror radiated from his body as he stumbled back.

He couldn’t be allowed to escape. Nezumi and Shion _needed this, goddammit._

Nezumi Pushed with everything he had. It was inelegant, and brutish, and terrible in its effect.

The man seized up and instantly his face went slack. His gaze fixed in the middle-distance, losing all semblance of intelligence. It was as if Nezumi were staring at a doll crafted to look human, but that fell just short of the mark.

And now the man reminded him not of the Yoshidas, but of the officers who had come to take his family, the officers he had hit with the full blast of his rage and grief and sent marching like marionettes into the snow.

“My car…” the man said slowly, and Nezumi forced his revulsion down and finished the job.

“You’re going to give it to me.”

“I’m going to give it to you.” He raised his arm up ramrod straight as if it were made of wood and held the keys out to Nezumi.

Nezumi took them by the edge so he wouldn’t mistakenly touch the man’s skin. “If anyone asks about it…you tell them that you sold your car. You don’t remember when it was, or who you sold it to in any detail. It was just some kid. Don’t file a police report, no matter what.”

“I will tell them I sold it. I don’t remember; just a kid. No police report, no matter what.”

“Good.”

Nezumi took a step back and clutched the keys to his chest. Would the man be OK? Would this unnerving effect fade when Nezumi got far enough away? He hadn’t thought much about the ramifications of his powers before. They had never mattered to him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.” Nezumi turned and jogged to the Yoshidas’ sedan.

He tore open the back door—and his heart spasmed in his chest. He expected Shion to still be sleeping, but he was sitting up and his gaze met Nezumi’s like a crash of thunder. His eyes and face were red and puffy; at some point he had cried. When? After Nezumi left for the convenience store? Or had he been crying all the time and, like his bloodstained face, Nezumi hadn’t noticed at all?

He waited for Shion to speak, to comment on the shameful event that occurred one pump over, but Shion said nothing, and eventually Nezumi dropped his gaze.

“Come on. We need to switch cars.” Nezumi’s voice didn’t feel like his own. It was softer, calmer, not at all aligned with his thoughts.

Shion shifted and Nezumi stepped back as he slid out of the car in a torrent of blanket and pillow. Nezumi snatched up the backpack and tossed it in the back of the SUV. Once he saw Shion settled in the front passenger seat of the new car, Nezumi climbed back into the Yoshidas sedan and shoved the key into the ignition.

He drove around behind the gas station and parked in the shadiest spot he could find. Then he shut the engine and tucked the keys back where he found them under the sun visor before hopping out. He hoped the Yoshidas got their car back—but in a few days or months, when he and Shion were long gone.

Nezumi returned to the SUV. Shion sat quietly beside him and stared out the window, still swaddled in the queen blanket, the pillow resting in his lap. The owner of the car stood mannequin-like by the pump as Nezumi eased out of the station with his beloved car. Nezumi swallowed his shame and drove.

The unnerving interaction with the SUV owner had given him an idea of where they might be able to hide: Nezumi’s childhood home, abandoned in the cold mountains all these years. It was a place of complicated memory, but it was a terrain Nezumi knew well, and he was convinced he could keep them secreted and fortified there as long as it took to get them back on their feet.

They drove the darkening miles in silence, mired in parallel hells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	23. Frigid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry for the late posting on this chapter! I was up all last night sick, and it persisted into today, so I spent the whole day sleeping. I'm feeling a bit better, and I just realized that I didn't remember to post the next chapter, so here we go! We both hope that you all like this one! <3

Nezumi and Shion arrived at a small cabin nearly two days after leaving the Yoshidas. The SUV made quick work of the journey, and the high-ground clearance allowed Nezumi to easily slip down the rocky backroads.

When dusk fell exactly twenty-four hours after they abandoned the sedan, Nezumi eased the vehicle down another long, dirt road. A heavy copse of trees and brush stood on both sides of the road, left untamed for years. The weeds snarled and twisted out into the path.

For much of the journey, they hadn’t come across many other cars. Nezumi stuck to the shadows, eyes eternally searching for tell-tale signs of the Lab.

Neither of them had slept since the theft at the gas station. The heater from the SUV rumbled pleasantly, but when it began to make both of them dangerously drowsy, Nezumi cranked on the AC until the windshield fogged up and their teeth chattered. He would then slowly ease the heat back up, just enough to keep them mildly uncomfortable.

They stopped a few times for gas, but only when it became absolutely necessary. Nezumi filled up quickly, paid even quicker, and then they were gone before anyone could hope to remember what they looked like.

Hunger gnawed at the edges of Shion’s stomach, but the gray haze overshadowed it. He watched out the window as they drove. Shion watched the sun rise, watched the buildings fade as they coasted through small towns, watched the world turn as if he and Nezumi were nothing more than a speck adrift in an ocean of black asphalt.

Neither of them spoke through the duration of the drive. Nezumi made a few sounds now and then, usually when the car ran low on gas. Shion was exhausted, but sleep evaded him. The thought of dropping back into darkness frightened him.

There was no anger behind Nezumi’s actions. The few times he looked at Shion, his gaze was gentle and concerned. When Shion got out of the SUV at one of the gas stations to go relieve himself in the public restroom―out of desperation rather than desire, as his hips had begun to hurt―Nezumi gave his hand a squeeze before Shion went into the shop.

They passed through a few small towns before Nezumi brought them to a long road surrounded by thick woods on both sides. They’d left civilization behind more than twenty miles back, the SUV’s tank half-full with gas.

As the sun sank beneath the tops of the trees, shadows bleeding across the SUV, Nezumi suddenly slowed and turned off the main road. He went onto a narrow dirt road marked NO TRESPASSING ― PRIVATE PROPERTY.

Nezumi exhaled as if something inside him had come unraveled, and the sudden sound loosened Shion from his mental haze.

“Nezumi?”

“It’s nothing,” Nezumi said, much too quickly.

Shion didn’t press.

They drove slowly down the dirt road, pockmarked with potholes and debris. The pitch-black forest swallowed the SUV as Nezumi eased the vehicle steadily down the road. Long branches brushed the metal roof, the headlights slicing through the darkness so that Shion could see only what appeared directly in front of them.

After nearly two miles of slow driving, the dirt road branched off in two directions. A thick metal chain hung across the left road, along with a heavy padlock. From the chain hung a rusty, yellowing sign warning against trespassing.

Shion’s stomach clenched as Nezumi drew the front of the SUV up until its blunt nose kissed the padlock. There were scrapes in the metal sign from years of weather damage, but it looked as if it had been abandoned for years.

“Stay here,” Nezumi instructed. He left the SUV running and hopped out. He kept the driver’s door open and walked around to the locked gate.

Shion could see Nezumi lingering in front of the SUV, inspecting the padlock. He lifted it in his hand and gingerly turned it over. Little motes drifted in front of the headlights, and Shion watched a tiny bug dance around the shadows.

Nezumi turned the padlock again, and Shion watched as he steadily opened it. It hadn’t been properly latched, merely twisted to appear locked from a distance. Nezumi quickly undid it and drew the chain to the side before letting it sit on the ground.

He returned to the SUV and jumped into the driver’s seat.

Without a word, Nezumi drove the SUV forward. Once they’d cleared the entrance to the road, Nezumi put it back in park. He jumped outside and quickly replaced the chain, putting the padlock back in place. He didn’t latch it, though Shion assumed it was only to give the impression that the road was still unused.

The road beyond was in rough shape, but Nezumi seemed to relax upon seeing it. A poorly maintained road meant local traffic had all but abandoned it. Deep grooves in the dirt made the SUV rise and fall as they drove along at a steady pace. Nezumi refused to speed up, though his eyes darted to the shadows as if he expected the Lab’s agents to jump out of the woods and surround them.

Another half mile of silence, and Nezumi finally spoke. His voice shook Shion to the core after so many hours of uneasy quiet, and it was a struggle to comprehend what he was saying.

“There’s a cabin,” Nezumi explained. “Up ahead. About another half a mile. It’s…secluded, and it should be a good enough place to camp out for now. We can’t risk the main roads for a while.”

It wasn’t an accusation, but Shion felt it stab through him all the same.

“There won’t be electricity,” Nezumi went on. “There’s a generator, but it probably doesn’t work anymore. Wouldn’t turn it on even if it did. That’d be like holding up a big, neon sign saying ‘HEY, COME AND GET US!’ But there’s kerosene lamps and plenty of space for us to hunker down. We can probably spend the whole winter there, if we get lucky. It’s a lot better than the warehouse.”

Shion looked out the window and didn’t reply.

Nezumi went along for a few moments in dead silence before he came to an abrupt stop.

Shion’s blood went cold. In his mind’s eye he saw a horde of agents in their black uniforms pouring from the tree trunks, surrounding the car and pointing their guns through the windows. The smell of gunpowder and burning oil drifted beneath Shion’s nose, and his throat tightened as terror exploded through every nerve in his body.

“Shit,” Nezumi muttered.

Shion risked a look and saw that a tree had fallen across the road up ahead. A heavy storm must have knocked it over years ago, and it caught against another tree. There was a gap beneath it large enough for a full-grown man to walk beneath, but not tall enough to work the bulky body of the SUV through.

Nezumi struck his open palm against the steering wheel. “ _Shit_. We can’t leave the SUV out in the open like this. Shion, can you―”

Nezumi stopped as a thought came over him, but it was too late.

Shion’s stomach plunged to his feet. His hands tightened on his lap, smothered beneath the pillow Nezumi had swiped from the Yoshida’s guest room. He couldn’t feel the soft fabric kissing his skin, or the solid seat beneath his thighs. All he could see was the smoke rising from the agents’ cars as he hurled them around the yard like leaves in the wind.

“Shion,” Nezumi said firmly. “It’s OK.”

“I―,” Shion gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll walk from here,” Nezumi insisted. “It’s only a little ways up. I’ll come back and get rid of the trunk. Just―just stay calm, OK?”

“No, wait. I-I could try―”

“ _Shion_.” Nezumi gave him a sympathetic look, but beneath it, Shion could see the faintest edge of terror. “We’ll just walk.”

Shion’s shoulders dropped, but he didn’t argue.

They got out of the SUV, Shion still bundled in the queen blanket as if it had become a second skin, and Nezumi shut it off and locked it up. He left the belongings inside it, and Shion felt a bit uneasy leaving everything behind. Something in Nezumi had changed. This place he was bringing them to must have been one of the few places Nezumi felt safe enough to push forward, even a bit, without the ability to grab his things and dash.

In the thick darkness, Shion followed Nezumi beneath the fallen tree trunk, careful not to bump his head. The fallen leaves crunched under their shoes, the scents of winter easing the tension from Shion’s shoulders.

Just as Shion’s vision began to adjust to the darkness, the road widened into a small clearing. The moonlight illuminated the tree trunks, and between them, Shion could make out the shape of a sturdy wooden cabin.

For a moment, Shion and Nezumi just stood in front of it. Their shoulders touched, the silence between them heavy. The cabin had a single floor, but from the outside, it looked comfortable. The siding was crafted of a dark wood, the roof made of heavy metal. The windows were dark and hidden by thick curtains, and there was a large porch jutting from the front. It was clearly abandoned, and had been for some time.

“Come on,” Nezumi said after a moment. He hurried to the porch, and Shion quickly followed after him, not wanting to be out in the darkness by himself.

The front door was locked up in much the same way the padlock and chain had been. Nezumi opened the lock and set it on the ground. There was a light screen door, and beyond it a heavy wooden door with a single peephole.

Nezumi gave the door handle a twist, and with a loud crack, it opened. He exhaled again, but went inside before Shion could begin to question him.

After a moment, Shion ducked in after him. The room beyond was large and dusty, plunged in darkness. It was cold; Shion could see his breath puffing out with each exhale. With the combination of the moonlight drifting in through the thin cracks in the cabin and his eyes adjusting to the darkness, Shion could make out the faintest sight of a large couch jammed against the far wall.

Nezumi immediately began moving around the cabin as if he’d lived there his entire life. He took a left into another room, and returned with a kerosene lamp before Shion could begin to worry. He looked relieved as he set it on a small table and lit it with a match he’d produced from somewhere Shion hadn’t seen.

The sudden light made Shion wince. He squinted through the brightness. There was a small coffee table, a large brown couch, and thick black-out curtains over each of the windows. The tables were covered in a thick layer of dust, but nothing a little TLC wouldn’t cure.

It was…comfortable. It wasn’t luxurious by any stretch of the word, but it was nice. Someone had pieced it together with a decent amount of love, and someone had made a good life here.

The floorboards creaked beneath Nezumi’s boots as he wandered close to Shion. The dancing flames inside the kerosene lamp cast shadows across his sharp features, transforming his piercing eyes into black oil spills.

“We’re safe here,” Nezumi said calmly. “I have to check the supplies and…get the SUV up here. We can’t leave it sitting out in the open.”

Shion swallowed the lump in his throat. “Let me help.”

“I’ll take care of it. You just get settled. If I need any help, I’ll call.”

Shion felt pathetic as he watched Nezumi quickly wander out of the cabin. It seemed like Nezumi had used this hideaway before, but there would be time to ask once Nezumi came back inside and was ready to talk.

This was what Shion feared the most. How long had it been since Nezumi slept, all because of _him?_ How much had Shion made Nezumi suffer since they’d begun this journey?

Shion shook his head. _Stop it. That’s not true_. He huddled into the blanket and slowly walked around the living room. It was a decent size, and Shion could see a few other rooms in the back as he passed by the threshold Nezumi had vanished down to retrieve the lantern. He was too jittery to explore those rooms alone, though.

After doing two laps around the living room, Shion huddled close to the window, nudged the curtain back, and peered outside. The light from the moon cast a frightening white glow around the open field behind the cabin, and the small pond nestled in the center was pitch-black. Shion didn’t know how deep it was.

 _You did a horrible thing_.

Shion’s lips pressed together.

 _You killed that man_.

Shion’s shoulders quaked. Unease lanced through every nerve ending of his body, until he couldn’t feel the warmth of the queen blanket around his shoulders. The memories of the incident in the Yoshida’s front yard hadn’t fully formed, manifesting only as a strong scent: the pungent smell of gasoline as it poured from the punctured fuel tanks.

The memories came back, all at once. Shion remembered the feeling of his nails digging into his palms as he clenched them in fury. The satisfaction of watching Hawk tumble through the air as Shion hurled him away from him, away from Nezumi, away to somewhere he could never harm either of them again―

The sickening squelch as Hawk’s throat exploded against the jagged edge of the fence punched to the forefront of Shion’s mind. His dying groans tumbled down Shion’s back as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him.

 _You killed him. You didn’t have to, but you did. You_ wanted _to do it_.

Shion’s fingers tightened around the blanket, his nails biting through the fabric. It didn’t ward off the chill. It had flooded him, bleeding through his skin and seeping down to his bones. 

The kerosene lamp began to tremble. The table it sat on began rocking back and forth as if a small tremor had begun under the floor. The handle rattled against the glass. Shion’s vision blurred until he couldn’t see anything except the horrendous image of blood spilling down fence posts.

 _You’re a monster_.

Shion inhaled but couldn’t exhale. The flame guttered inside its glass bubble. The wooden legs of the table smacked against the floorboards, and shadows jolted around the living room’s wooden walls like bolts of lightning.

 _I’m…a monster_.

**⁂**

For Nezumi, being back at the cabin was strange. When it had appeared before them in the middle of the clearing, unmoved by time, Nezumi felt a rush of nostalgia inside of him. He almost expected his mother to come fluttering outside, her long hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, calling out to Nezumi that dinner was ready.

It was a good place. A safe place. Settled in the middle of the woods, off the grid and powered by generators and hydroelectric power, with the only signs of civilization a few miles’ hike away. Nezumi had been born in these wooden walls, had played in the pond and grown among the thick tree trunks. He had his own room, and he wondered if anything inside it had been raided.

Nezumi shook his head. Now wasn’t the time for this. He hurried outside, letting the cool evening air wash over him and distract him from the mental anguish of his childhood home.

The door to the storage shed shut behind Nezumi with an audible click. His father’s tools were nestled in the tool box stored under the old wooden workbench, and Nezumi found a bonus he hadn’t even known he’d been hoping for: nearly a half-stack of wood, split and stacked beneath a tarp in the storage shed to keep it dry.

Nezumi had watched his father split the wood less than a week before the agents flooded the cabin. He’d helped his father carry it to the pile, grasping one log at a time with a pair of heavy gloves that were much too big for his hands.

To his dismay, the stack was a bit rotted and covered in mouse droppings from its duration inside the abandoned shed. Even if he chipped off the rotten bits, it wouldn’t last them through the winter. But after Nezumi finished getting them settled in and got some rest, he would take one of his father’s axes, get to work chopping down some of the smaller trees, and set them up for a few months.

Nezumi took the hacksaw down from the wall. He went to the fallen tree and cut it up just enough to fit the SUV through. It was nasty, grueling work, but better than watching Shion’s face twist with horror at the suggestion of using his powers to move it. By the time Nezumi finished scraping through the trunk and pulling its pieces out of the way, it was well into the night.

Nezumi had plunged into his second wind several hours ago. Exhaustion webbed through his brain, its thin strands slipping through the synapses and nesting inside his thoughts. Nothing quite made sense, and everything felt hazy and unsteady. Nezumi didn’t like getting to this point. He needed to have his wits about him if he and Shion were to have a prayer of surviving.

 _We’re safe here, for now_. Nezumi shoved his bangs out of his face. He couldn’t afford to worry about that now. He had more pressing matters.

Nezumi parked the SUV behind the cabin so it wasn’t visible at first glance. The solid dirt road wouldn’t display their tracks, and Nezumi had repositioned the padlock and left it behind exactly the way they’d found it.

Nezumi ducked into the backseat and grasped the backpack situated on the floor. He left the pillow on the front passenger seat, intent on returning for it later. He wanted to keep his hands free on the off-chance there was something in the food storage he could bring inside.

He unzipped the backpack and peered inside. The pale lights of the SUV’s interior illuminated the inside of the backpack. Nezumi could make out the distinct shape of the granola bars and the bottled waters Shion had snagged from the convenience store.

He shifted, and the sound of crumpled paper came from his jacket pocket.

Nezumi’s chest tightened. His impromptu gift for Shion had completely slipped his mind. Without a second thought, he took it and shoved it down to the bottom of the bag so he didn’t have to think about it. Purchasing it had been a prime example of Nezumi giving in to his deepest desires, a brief but dangerous lapse in judgment.

Nezumi had given up his perfect window of opportunity to give it to Shion―back when they were warm in the Yoshida’s guest room.

Now, Nezumi couldn’t imagine when he could possibly give it to Shion.

Everything was falling apart.

Nezumi zipped up the backpack and locked the SUV. He pocketed the keys, tossed the backpack over his shoulders, and made a beeline for the insulated shed his father had built beside the storm cellar, where the canned and dry goods were stored.

A quick survey of the food storage revealed what Nezumi already suspected: all the canned goods had expired years ago. There were five shelves of canned vegetables and soups, some tuna fish and several bags of rice that the mice had gotten into.

No one had taken the canned goods in the years since Nezumi had vacated the property. If there had been thieves in the vicinity, they’d kept to the southernmost parts of town, never risking the trip into the mountains.

Nezumi wandered into the cellar, unsurprised to find the outside storm doors unlocked. The hinges groaned as he yanked the heavy door open, the solid metal scraped with rust. Beneath the cabin was a dusty little basement filled with odds and ends Nezumi’s grandmother hadn’t wanted to clutter the upstairs rooms. Nezumi briefly considered rifling through the boxes, but thought better of it. There would be time for that later.

No food meant a trip to the nearby town was in order, but it wasn’t a pressing matter for tonight. Shion and Nezumi had enough granola bars and bottled water in the backpack to get them through a day or two. Once things had calmed down―and Nezumi was able to think straight―he’d take the SUV into the town, load up with essentials, and return to the cabin.

Nezumi took one last look around the basement before returning upstairs. Memories washed over him, blurred from years of being shoved aside and ignored, but drifting to the forefront now that he was back in his element. His father grumbling as he carried the endless stack of boxes down the wooden steps while Gran stood at the top and sniped at him not to drop “a single one, young man!” His mother cooking a big pot of soup and humming to herself while Nezumi played on the floor beside her. Eating dinner outside on the porch with the stars overhead and the smell of the woods wafting around him like smoke.

Nezumi turned away, his eyes stinging.

He went upstairs quickly and shut the door behind him.

Memories were dangerous to a careless mind. If Nezumi let his past consume him, he’d never dig himself out. Coming to his family’s cabin had been a big risk, but Nezumi was banking on the Lab thinking it too obvious and painful for Nezumi to consider a viable hiding spot.

For many years, they’d been right. Nezumi never thought he would come back here. The passing years hadn’t blurred the pain of losing his family or witnessing their brutal murders. Returning to the cabin had been the last thing in the world Nezumi wanted to do, but his hands were tied. Shion needed to heal, and Nezumi needed to wrap his head around what happened.

Being back in the cabin ached. Nezumi stood outside the basement door, trying to push the memories down. They were coming back in droves, wave after wave washing over him. One in particular stood out, glaringly bright against the others.

Nezumi had accompanied his father one foggy Sunday morning to the local grocery store. It was an exciting trip, as Nezumi didn’t often leave sight of the cabin. It was a journey of a few miles, and his father had to carry him part of the way because Nezumi’s feet started to hurt.

The grocery store was nestled in the bosom of the small town. Nezumi’s father slipped inside, grabbed a shopping basket, and loaded it up with some of the canned goods Nezumi had seen resting in the storage shed. Their trip was simple and quick, and Nezumi was allowed to carry one plastic bag filled with three little cans.

In the parking lot, Nezumi and his father weaved through a small collection of cars. Nezumi had wandered too close to a tan-colored Chevy Impala, and his plastic bag bumped against the door. It didn’t leave a mark, but the old woman perched behind the wheel, preparing to pull out of her space, rolled down her window to shriek at him for “damaging her car.”

Nezumi’s father guided him away from the screaming old woman, instructing him to ignore her. It should have ended there―except the old woman whipped out of her spot and followed after them with her windows down.

She screamed at them as they hurried across the parking lot, wailing that she demanded their insurance information and that she would sue them for the damages to her car. Nezumi was sure his bag of groceries hadn’t hit her car hard enough to damage the door, but her shouting made him afraid. His lips trembled and his eyes blurred with tears.

The old woman followed them as they reached the sidewalk. They had a long journey ahead of them back to the cabin. Nezumi’s father bristled as the old woman pursued them, shrieking at his back and swearing.

After she followed them for a few blocks, honking her horn and making it abundantly clear she had no intention of stopping until she got their information, Nezumi’s father finally had enough. In a spur of the moment decision, fueled by rage and frustration, Nezumi’s father turned and drew his lips back in a vicious sneer, giving the old woman a full view of his serrated teeth.

The old woman slammed on her breaks and stopped in the middle of the street. Nezumi could see her through the windshield of her car: Her dark eyes were blown wide, her wrinkled mouth dropped open in horror.

His mission accomplished, Nezumi’s father ushered Nezumi along until the woman’s parked car disappeared behind them.

Nezumi’s father didn’t worry about showing his teeth to the old woman. When Nezumi asked, his father snorted and said, “Oh, please. She’s ancient. Who’s going to believe that she saw someone with shark teeth?”

Except someone _had_ believed her.

Her experience had worked its way to someone who knew someone who had connections with someone at Horizon Labs. Her ridiculous story of a man with shark teeth had spurred a unit of agents to investigate the area, leading them right to the front door of the cabin.

Nezumi’s family was full of bullet holes less than a week later.

From that moment onward, Nezumi vowed to never underestimate anyone ever again. He couldn’t trust the public. The walls had eyes, and a brief lapse in judgment could mean instant death. Unnecessary risks could get him captured.

Nezumi took a deep breath and plunged into the living room.

“So, some bad news,” he announced. “I managed to move the SUV, but the food situation isn't great. We’ll deal with that in a little while. We have enough rations in the backpack to get us through tomorrow, at least, so we can―”

All the furniture in the room was shaking. Shion crouched underneath one of the windows, curled in on himself. The flames inside the kerosene lamp jolted around, casting frightening patterns against the walls.

Terror lanced through Nezumi’s body. He tensed, the exhaustion bursting out of him in a sudden cold wave. Shion was an unnerving presence in the darkness, lingering at the other end of the room with a large gap between them.

Nezumi swallowed the lump in his throat and fought past the urge to run into the woods. He took a few steady steps forward Shion, lifting his hand and reaching for Shion’s shoulder.

“Shion,” Nezumi said slowly, keeping his voice clear and calm. He approached Shion as if he were cornering a scared, wounded animal.

Shion sniffled when Nezumi was right behind him, and it only took a moment for Nezumi to realize he was crying. Quiet, miserable sobs that ripped out of his chest.

“Shion,” Nezumi said again, louder this time.

“I killed someone,” Shion wept. “I didn’t have to, but I did.”

Nezumi thought for a long time and then said, “Yes, you killed someone. But they were going to hurt us, Shion.”

Shion shook his head.

“They were. If you hadn’t done what you did, we’d be in that transport vehicle now and it would all be over. You did what you did to save us.” Nezumi curled his fingers into fists. “He was going to shoot you, Shion. He was going to―” He exhaled, hard, and shut his eyes. “Look, let’s just… We need to get some sleep.”

Shion choked out another sob. “How? How is any of this OK?”

Nezumi stepped forward, and Shion turned. Nezumi caught a brief glimpse of his face―of the tears streaking down his cheeks, the misery in his eyes―and then Shion threw himself into Nezumi’s arms.

He broke down sobbing, pressing his face into the crook of Nezumi’s neck. Nezumi’s arms went around him, pulling Shion against him and clutching him as hard as he could.

If he could keep Shion close, keep him warm and safe, then Shion would forget what had happened. Nezumi could forget the pain in his forehead as he fought against Shion’s powers. He could forget the terror as he realized what Shion was capable of, how easily it could all fall apart in a matter of moments.

Except that wasn’t possible. Shion couldn’t simply forget the horrible things he’d done. Nezumi couldn’t forget that Shion was too powerful for him to wrangle when things got dicey.

Nezumi’s tongue felt heavy behind his teeth. He knew what it would take to fix this. He was drained, and his thoughts weren’t working the way Nezumi wanted them to, but if he focused hard enough, he could last long enough to make things right.

“Shion,” Nezumi murmured. “Shion, look at me.”

Shion choked and pressed himself harder into Nezumi’s neck.

“Shion, please?”

He drew back and looked up at Nezumi. His dark eyes trembled with terror and misery, but the furniture had stopped shaking. None of it had lifted into the air, and none of it had been thrown against the wall.

Nezumi pressed two fingers beneath Shion’s chin and tipped his head back, just enough for their eyes to lock. Nezumi hoped he looked calm. He only had one chance to make this work. It had to be perfect.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

Shion sniffled, and Nezumi Pushed. He Reached into Shion’s mind, navigating down the short path between them. He edged the tips of his invisible fingers into the synapses of Shion’s mind, entering in through the dark flecks embedded in Shion’s irises. Nezumi knew Shion. He knew the mappings of his mind; navigating the neurological pathways making up the negative feelings in Shion’s brain, the dark memories clouding his judgment of himself.

Shion’s eyes widened, just a bit. Nezumi pressed harder, as hard as he Pushed against the man in the gas station who’d resisted him. A piercing shock of pain began above his left eyebrow, but Nezumi edged around it.

The horrified thoughts of slaughtering Hawk and losing control began to bend and twist beneath Nezumi’s instruction, and Nezumi could feel Shion’s emotions bubbling up inside him: misery melted away to horror, and horror faded to betrayal―

Shion ripped himself out of Nezumi’s arms, and the connection between them shattered like glass. Nezumi’s vision flashed white as it all fell to pieces around him. Pain exploded through him, and Nezumi let out a sharp breath.

“What―,” Shion gasped. “What’s _wrong with you?_ ”

Nezumi struggled to speak.

“You were trying to erase my memory?”

“I was just―,” Nezumi said, shaking himself loose from the shock. “I was trying to _help_ you.”

“Help me?” The table closest to Shion began to shake again. It lifted an inch off the ground, a threat lingering in the air between them. “You were trying to erase my memories! You have no right to―how could you even _consider_ doing that?”

“You’re a _wreck!_ ” Nezumi yelled. The exhaustion took hold. Nezumi’s thoughts were a muddled mess. He was a wreck. Shion was a wreck. This whole thing was a nightmare. “You lost control! It happened. We can’t go back and fix it, and we can’t afford to have you hung up on it. You did what you did to get us out of that situation. It was over the top and things got out of hand, but we escaped! I would have done the same thing.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to erase my memories!” Shion shouted. The glass windows trembled, an electric current dancing in the air between them.

“What other choice do I have, Shion?” Nezumi fisted his hands through his hair and pulled, hard, trying to ground himself. Everything was slipping through his fingers. Nothing was going right. “We need to survive, and I don’t know how I’m going to―how we’re going to get through this when you’re so fucking scared of what you can do. I was only trying to―”

“They’re _my_ memories!” Shion’s face twisted with a mixture of misery and betrayal. “I’m the one who screwed up. They’re my powers. It’s my mistake. I’m sorry if losing control of my powers puts a pin in your plan to take down the Lab, but that doesn’t give you the right to erase my mind without my consent! I’m supposed to trust you, Nezumi. We’re supposed to trust each other! But how can I trust you when you just tried to do that?”

Nezumi sucked in a deep breath. His eyes stung. He blamed it on exhaustion.

Shion deflated. The table dropped to the floor with a loud thud. The kerosene lamp shuddered at the shift, but stilled soon after. Nezumi could see the pain on Shion’s face, the lifelessness in his eyes as the tears kept falling.

“Just… Just leave me alone,” Shion muttered. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

Shion moved past him.

Nezumi didn’t stop him.

Once Shion had gone into the deeper part of the cabin, Nezumi’s legs gave out. He dropped to the floor, catching himself on his hands with a pained hiss. His vision swam in and out, muddled from the lack of sleep and his failed attempt at twisting Shion’s thoughts. Loathing nestled in his stomach, and Nezumi felt like he was going to vomit.

He burrowed his face into his hands and took a deep breath, then another. His eyes burned. It was messed up. Everything was so messed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	24. All Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! We hope you had a wonderful weekend, and we're ready to kick off the beginning of the week with another chapter! Hope you enjoy it! <3

Nezumi sat on the edge of the bed in his childhood bedroom and stared into the dark. It must have been the early hours of the morning by now, but Nezumi hadn’t tried to sleep.

Despite all the happy memories he had in this room, he didn’t like being in it again. The room was suspended in time—a time before pain and loss had touched him—and it hurt to look back at this snapshot of innocence through the tired, jaded eyes of the person he had become.

The bookshelf his father had built from the trees out back, and that his mother had managed to scrounge up one shelf worth of books for, looked tiny and forlorn, the corners of its novels nibbled by rodents and the merciless passage of time. A brown layer of dust coated the toys dotting the top of the bookshelf. His parents never had much to live on at any given time, and Nezumi stubbornly refused to allow them to waste their money on toys for him; Nezumi himself had whittled the dinosaur and mice figurines from sticks and stones he found in the front yard.

Shion had taken his parents’ room, just across the hall.

Nezumi scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned.

How could he have tried to erase Shion’s memory? What a dick move. Stupid, desperate, heartless. He wasn’t helping Shion, he was protecting himself. From the pain of his impotence; from the panic that had taken root in his heart when he saw what Shion was truly capable of; from the responsibility of comforting and reassuring the boy he had grown to love.

Nezumi was so good at running and shit at everything else. He knew he couldn’t get away with simply erasing his problems forever, that one day, he would have to face them head on. And that day had come.

But even now he wanted to erase Shion’s memory and his horror with it. He was pathetic and lost and he couldn’t think of another way to make things right.

Shion was so broken. He was even farther back than he was when they started. Before, he was scared of what he might do if he lost control. Now he knew exactly what happened when he did, and it was worse than anything he could have imagined. Nezumi couldn’t take seeing Shion hurt again, or angry to the point of regret after the damage was done. Nothing was worth that. No matter how much Nezumi wanted revenge, he would not pursue it at the expense of Shion’s sanity.

Besides, what had his hatred brought him all these years? He never got any closer to Horizon Labs, but they were closer to him all the time. He couldn’t even fight them anymore; the scramblers prevented him from bending their minds, and their weapons kept him from attacking through physical force. In the last year, he had been reduced from a threat to a snarky sitting duck.

That was why Nezumi had chosen to bring Shion into the fray: to have more power, to feel like he had a chance again. But it was all wrong. Nezumi couldn’t watch Shion destroy himself and others in the name of his fruitless cause.

There was no fighting the Lab—not alone, and not together.

Maybe they should just stop. Forget about fighting the Lab and go into hiding, like his parents had. They could run away to a far off place and make the most they could out of the years. Maybe, if they stayed far enough away, if they were really careful, they would never be found.

They both knew the consequences of getting too friendly with people now, so they wouldn’t make the mistake they made with the Yoshidas ever again. They wouldn’t accept kindnesses from others, and would only rely on each other.

Yes; Nezumi could imagine it. They would go south, somewhere it never got too cold and the air always tasted crisp and clean on their tongues. They’d find a house that had been abandoned, and Nezumi would grumble about what a shithole it was, and Shion would insist they could fix it up nice, and for a few weeks they’d pour their blood, sweat, and tears into making the house into a home. Long weeks of quiet comfort would follow. They’d read books and bicker and fall asleep wrapped in each other’s warmth, and slowly the fearful memories would ebb away and be replaced by new joys. The Lab would be forgotten for six months, a year, two years: a bruise that never healed, but that throbbed less with time.

Nezumi thought he and Shion could be happy, if they worked hard enough. If they worked at it together.

They just needed to survive this night.

Nezumi buried his face in his arms. His throat ached from choking down tears, and his body burned all over with shame and grief. The pounding in his head got worse the longer he put off sleep, but he was afraid of what waited for him in his dreams, and he was terrified of letting his guard down again. Every time he let himself get comfortable, something terrible happened.

He was so tired of struggling up an ever-rising slope.

He was so tired.

Nezumi’s head grew heavy, and despite every warning against it, he felt himself drifting off, bent over in the most uncomfortable position possible. _I’m going to regret this in the morning_ , he thought vaguely, but part of him thought he would deserve the pain. A physical hurt was always preferable to every other type.

Shion screamed. Nezumi shot to his feet and burst through the door to his parents’ room.

His eyes searched every dark corner for agents. He spotted a shadow looming over the right side of the bed and rushed toward it, ready to snap the intruder’s neck—but it was just the antique lamp his mother had rescued from a townsman’s trash.

After he had a moment to breathe and assess, Nezumi realized there were no intruders. There was only him—his chest heaving with adrenaline—and Shion, wide-eyed and trembling under the blankets.

“Shion?” He spoke quietly, as if there _were_ others in the room and not just the gaping insecurity between them.

Shion stared past him at the crack in the curtains where a sliver of blue-white moonlight crept into the room and over the foot of the bed. His face was ghostly pale in the low light and his shock of dark hair splattered the white linen pillowcase like a stain. For a heart pounding moment, Nezumi thought it might be blood and history was repeating itself and he would have to add another dead-eyed gaze to his nightmares.

But then Shion shuddered and blinked, and turned to Nezumi.

“...Why are you...?” Shion’s face pinched in confusion.

“I…” Nezumi swallowed. “Right. Sorry.”

He stepped back from the bed and moved toward the door.

“Wait!”

Nezumi paused and glanced back. Shion was sitting up in the bed, hands fisted in the blanket. He looked more like himself then, though a sadder, more frightened version than Nezumi was used to seeing.

“Don’t. Please. Can you…?”

Nezumi hardly dared to breathe as he returned to the bed and sat at the edge, not too close, in case Shion changed his mind. Shion stared down at the bedspread and said nothing for a long while.

“I dreamt—,” Shion started, but his voice cracked and retreated. He twisted his hands in the blankets and tried again. “I dreamt that I lost control again, and…a-and....”

His breathing turned fast and shallow. Nezumi wanted badly to reach out and steady Shion’s shaking shoulders, but if Shion shied away again, Nezumi didn’t think his heart could take the rejection.

“The Lab came and I was screaming at them to leave,” Shion continued, the words thick and warbling, “and I lost control and I killed everyone, Nezumi. I killed the Yoshidas. I killed you. There was so much blood, and I…”

Shion’s chest shivered with a suppressed sob and Nezumi couldn’t hold back anymore. He crawled up next to Shion and pulled him into his chest. He squeezed him tight enough to hurt, but Shion was holding him just as tightly, his nails scraping the small of Nezumi’s back as he balled his fists in Nezumi’s shirt.

Shion gasped his name and then his mouth was on Nezumi’s.

The sudden kiss startled him. Only hours ago Shion had been furious and yelling to be left alone—and rightfully so.

But Nezumi didn’t want to fight anymore, and nothing felt so right as kissing Shion.

Except this was wrong. Shion’s mouth was hot and hungry, and the way he clung to Nezumi had the feral edge of desperation to it.

“Shi— _mph_.”

Shion pressed forward until he was practically in Nezumi’s lap. Nezumi’s heart sped, his head swimming with a dizzying mix of arousal and uncertainty. Shion’s hands slipped into the waistband of his pants and Nezumi jolted back to the present.

He grabbed Shion by the shoulders and pushed him back. “Shion, hold on! Stop. What’re you…?”

The question died in Nezumi’s throat. Now that he could see Shion’s face clearly, he knew the answer without having to ask. Tears streamed down Shion’s cheeks, and he was shaking so badly Nezumi wondered how he didn’t notice sooner.

“Shion.” Nezumi cupped Shion’s face in his hands, but he couldn’t brush the tears away as fast as they fell. “Please. Just talk to me.”

Shion squeezed his eyes shut, as if by blocking out the world he could escape the despair wracking his body. “I’m a monster, Nezumi,” he whimpered. “The Lab is bad, but I’m worse, because I’m supposed to know better. But I hurt them and _I liked it_.”

The tears were coming faster than ever and Shion sounded like he was drowning. “I liked seeing them afraid, and I would have done more if you—” His eyes snapped open and stared back at Nezumi helplessly. “I hurt you, too. You were trying to help me, and I hurt you.”

“Shh. It’s OK, Shion. I’m fine.”

“You’re not!” Shion jerked away from his hands. “You’re scared of me!”

Nezumi’s stomach clenched. “No,” he said, but his voice was too soft and Shion was crying too hard.

“You can barely look at me anymore. I know. I _know_! I’m a monster and you can’t— You can’t stand me anymore. That’s why you want me to forget, but I _can’t_ —”

“Shion, stop!”

Shion quieted but for the quick breaths shuddering in his throat. Tears dripped from his chin and fell with soft sounds as they sunk into the blankets. He looked so small and broken, and Nezumi felt a tendril of anger coil in his chest.

“You’re _not_ a monster,” he growled. “Don’t you ever say that. They were threatening us and you did what you had to do to stop them and make them retreat. And I’m not scared of you—I’m _worried_. And I…”

Nezumi clenched his teeth, feeling the burn return to his throat and creep up to press against the back of his eyes. “I hate myself. For failing you. That’s why I can’t look you in the eye. Because this is my fault, Shion. For dragging you into this mess and for being so fucking pathetic and useless every time it actually matters.”

The tears pricked at his eyes and hovered there, threatening to drop if he blinked, so Nezumi refused to blink. But he couldn’t keep his voice from trembling.

“I keep saying that we’re going to take the Lab down, but I can’t do it. I can’t do it without you, and I don’t want to do it with you, because it hurts too much to watch you tear yourself apart.”

Neither spoke. Nezumi held himself very still, aware of the way his vision was blurring and hating the raw burn of Shion’s eyes picking him apart.

Nezumi hadn’t cried in years and he told himself he never would again. He swore he would never care enough about something to let it happen. And yet he had already broken one rule and here he was breaking the other: his throat tight and eyes stinging in front of the one person he was supposed to be strong for. 

Shion wrapped his arms around him. He threaded his fingers into the loose strands of Nezumi’s hair and Nezumi closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into the divot of Shion’s chest.

 _How pathetic_ , Nezumi cursed at himself. How stupid and uncool he was, crying into his boyfriend’s shirt when it was Shion who needed the comforting.

But Shion was warm and he was also crying, so Nezumi tried to forget his insecurities and returned the hug.

It seemed like hours passed while they sat curled on the bed in a silent embrace. Shion’s shirt was wet where Nezumi pressed his face into it, and Nezumi’s hair was damp from Shion’s tears, but there was something cleansing in it. Nezumi felt comfortably numb by the time they peeled themselves apart.

“You’re not useless; you’re the strongest person I know,” Shion said quietly, not because he meant to, but because he was congested. He sniffled and swiped at his face with the back of his sleeve. “We never would have made it this far without you. And how many times do I have to tell you that I came of my own choice? You didn’t force me into anything.”

“And you’re not a monster,” Nezumi growled back. “How many times do I have to tell _you_ that you did what you needed to protect us and that’s nothing to be ashamed of?”

“But I am ashamed,” Shion sighed, “and I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself for a long time.”

He held up a hand to stop Nezumi from interrupting. “It was too much, Nezumi. You know it was. It was overkill.”

They both winced at the word choice, but Shion drew a labored breath in through his mouth and pressed on.

“Don’t ever try to erase my memory again.”

Nezumi flinched. “I know. I won’t. I’m…sorry. That was shitty.”

“Not just because it’s shitty. I don’t ever want to forget that moment, no matter how badly it hurts. I need to remember what I did and suffer the consequences. Otherwise, how will I know when to stop next time?”

Shion’s eyes blazed with a mixture of pain and resolution. Nezumi couldn’t look away. Shion looked scared and broken all the time, and yet…. He might be the bravest person Nezumi knew.

Nezumi didn’t know how he could have ever thought Shion was a coward; he was a fighter, like Nezumi, except, unlike Nezumi, he wasn’t afraid to embrace his low moments, and he didn’t hide from the things that made him uncomfortable.

Nezumi bit hard into his lower lip, a little afraid of the surge of affection rising in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was as brave as Shion—at least, not in that way. Not yet, but some day.

Today, though, he knew one thing with certainty: He would protect Shion until his dying breath, and he knew Shion would do the same for him.

“OK,” Nezumi said. “I’ll never erase your memory. You have my word.”

“Good. Thank you,” said Shion. “And you have my word that I’ll never lose control like that again. If I do… Please punch me.” He paused, then added, “Again. You punched me before, right? My jaw actually hurts. I didn’t realize until now….”

The corner of Nezumi’s mouth quirked up, but he held back, unsure if it was really OK to start smiling after all they went through. But a watery smile slipped onto Shion’s lips and they both relaxed into the calm.

“And now I’m exhausted,” Shion mumbled, and leaned back.

Nezumi watched him snuggle under the covers with a stifling fondness burning in his chest. When Shion caught the look, he pulled the blanket up over the lower half of his face and blinked back shyly.

Nezumi’s cheeks warmed and he had to turn his face away.

“Stay here?” Shion asked.

Nezumi answered by slipping under the covers. Shion wormed closer to press his forehead to Nezumi’s collarbone with a contented sigh, and Nezumi planted a kiss on the top of his head.

They fell asleep to the cadence of their uneven breaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	25. Paranoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone! Hard to believe we're already almost through February. 2021's been going quickly! Anyway, here we are with another chapter of _Beyond the Horizon_ , so we hope you enjoy it!
> 
> And in case anyone hasn't seen it, Anikixvi drew some amazing fanart for this fic: http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/29540976. Please go check it out and show them lots of love! This was such an amazing gift to see! <3

It was early morning when Nezumi decided it was no longer safe to stay at his family’s cabin.

Three days had passed since he and Shion had taken up residence in his childhood home, and while Nezumi had been reveling in the fact that he and Shion could finally rest, paranoia gnawed at his stomach like a slow-killing parasite.

The continuing silence around the cabin should have brought him relief, but instead, it made him uneasy. He had a difficult time getting to sleep at night, even after he and Shion exhausted hours wrapped up in each other, hands roaming, lips and teeth marking necks and shoulders. They clung to each other’s warmth to stave off the creeping chill of reality, and as much as Nezumi wanted to stay cloistered in the secret, quiet world that existed within the circle of Shion’s arms, he knew better than to believe it could keep them safe.

The dream that he and Shion could run and hide somewhere far away was just that: a dream. Shion had smiled when Nezumi suggested it the morning after their make-up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes and his murmured responses had little conviction.

They could run all they wanted, and maybe they could escape, but they would never achieve peace. The ghosts of Nezumi’s family would not let him rest, and now Shion had his own shades to combat. Their hearts had been twisted out of shape by atrocity and there was no concept of normal anymore, only the inevitable truth: That life could not be lived until either Horizon Labs was destroyed, or they were.

“We have to leave,” Nezumi sighed as he walked into the bedroom. The little heater in the corner buzzed low and lonesome. “I thought we could stay here, but…. I don’t think it’s a good idea after all. Collect what you think we need to pack.”

Shion looked at Nezumi with the blank resignation of a prisoner and rose up from the bed without a word. He didn’t ask where they were going to go or what the plan was, because they both knew there was nothing to tell.

There were two duffle bags in his parents’ bedroom closet, perhaps stored away with the hope that they might travel one day, when the danger had left them. Nezumi moved to pull them out, but Shion shot a glance at the closet and the door creaked open. The two bags levitated above the ground like dust motes and settled on top of the crumpled comforter. 

Shion had used his powers sparingly the last few days, only tackling small tasks that had little chance of going awry.

“Good job,” said Nezumi.

“Thank you,” murmured Shion.

Blinding sunlight streamed in through the windows on the far side of the cabin. Melted icicles dripped down from the gutters and from the sloping roof. Nezumi focused outward, letting his Hands hover around the cabin, probing for threats and finding none.

But that paranoia remained, fizzing electric in his veins.

Shion pulled on his jacket and Nezumi’s mother’s wool-knit cap, a purple flower-studded craft she had made one long winter day when they were snowed in. Shion had found it in the closet and Nezumi had pressed him into taking it. He told Shion it was because it suited him—and it did—but the deeper truth was that he liked that his mother’s memory would keep Shion warm. It felt a little like carrying around his parents’ blessing, and so Nezumi chose to take his father’s old scarf for himself. 

Nezumi shrugged into his leather jacket and wrapped the scarf around his throat, before tugging it loose again. He’d thoughtlessly bound it too tight.

“Anything else you want to take?” asked Shion.

“No. I think we’ve got everything.”

Nezumi tapped the duffle bag mindlessly. He’d grabbed a couple of his mother’s old sweaters, the money from the safebox in the basement, and one of his father’s black coats. It was too large for him, but would serve as a decent blanket in a pinch. They would leave the Yoshidas’ heavy comforter behind.

Shion stepped around the bed and lifted his arms. A silent request for a hug. Nezumi couldn’t remember the last time Shion had _asked_ for a hug. He just gave them, and Nezumi welcomed the affection more than he thought he would. It was a way to ground himself, a physical assurance that both of them were solid and secure.

Nezumi took Shion into his arms and kissed his forehead. They were nearly the same height. It was amazing just how little had changed in the time they’d been sheltered inside the warmth and safety of the cabin.

“Let’s go,” said Nezumi, lips lingering on the wool of Shion’s hat.

“OK,” Shion whispered back.

Nezumi nodded and went to the front door. He took a deep breath, tasting the musk and wood of the cabin and holding it in his chest as long as he could stand, and then he pulled the door open.

It had snowed overnight, and for a moment, the sunlight glinting off the white powder was so bright that Nezumi couldn’t see anything at all. Then his eyes adjusted and the brilliance of midday stretched out before him. The thick copse of pine trees stood on the other end of the driveway. Nezumi could see nothing through them—no birds, no lingering deer, no men or women in Horizon Lab’s uniforms. He would have heard them if they had approached, he was sure of it.

There was nothing aside from the _drip drip drip_ of water from the gutter. But again the silence of the forest unsettled him. The sooner they were on the road, the better.

“Come on,” said Nezumi, teasing the car keys from his pocket.

“OK,” Shion said.

He crossed the room to stand at Nezumi’s side, hovering at the threshold, as though the few days in the cabin had turned the outside world into a terrible unknown. Nezumi squeezed Shion’s hand and kissed his cheek, trying to lend him strength while also stealing some for himself from the warmth of Shion’s skin.

He wanted to tell Shion how much he meant to him, but he couldn’t find the courage to speak the words aloud. He was certain that Shion knew how he felt, and that was enough for now. Someday Nezumi would be brave enough to say it. Someday he would be brave enough to lay out his insecurities, his fears, his hopes.

They were on the edge of the porch when Shion went rigid and made a strangled, choking sound.

Cold shot through Nezumi’s body. The car keys slipped out of his hand and clattered to the ground as he shot his awareness out, but the response came back as blank and silent as before.

But something was _wrong_.

“Shion?” Nezumi took hold of Shion’s shoulder and tried to turn him towards himself. “What is it?”

Shion stood still as a statue, haunting and beautiful against the frozen lake. His pupils were blown so wide that the color of his irises were only thin crescents.

And then Nezumi saw what was wrong. There was a long, thin dart with a bright red plume plunged into Shion’s throat, embedded in the divot of his collarbone.

The moment turned sluggish and blurred. Nezumi couldn’t remember how to breathe. His body wouldn’t work and he could hardly feel Shion in his grip.

Shion’s dark brown hair peeked out from the knit purple cap and shimmered in the morning sunlight. His throat moved, and a trickle of bright red blood seeped out of the wound and dribbled down beneath the collar of his jacket.

The world burst into startling focus.

“ _Shion!_ ”

Nezumi lunged forward just as Shion’s eyes rolled up and his knees crumpled beneath him. He lowered him onto the porch and cradled Shion’s head in his hands, gawking down at the dart embedded in his throat. Shion’s body had gone slack, all dead weight and limp limbs. His skin looked pale and washed out, his lips tinted the blue of a corpse.

Nezumi feverishly stroked his fingers over Shion’s cheek, over the purple knit cap, over the soft strands of hair that stuck out from beneath.

“Shion?” he whispered, rocking Shion like a ragdoll.

The dart was not large, but it looked deeply embedded in Shion’s neck. Nezumi’s hand hovered above it, desperate to pull it out, but afraid that it might damage Shion more if he did. If it had hit an artery, then the dart might be the only thing keeping Shion from bleeding out in his lap.

_He needs a hospital. He needs… He… No. Who did this?_

Nezumi looked out at the thick forests surrounding the cabin, squinting into the trees for signs of life—and saw nothing.

 _Where? Where are they? Where_ are they _?!_

“ _You bastards!_ ” he bellowed. “ _Show yourselves!_ ”

A short woman dressed in a clean-cut black suit stepped out of the bushes. She held a pistol in her right hand, aimed at the sky as if she intended to shoot down a bird, and on her bicep, Nezumi found what he sought: A golden sun rising above the words HORIZON LABORATORIES stitched in garish orange lettering.

“Was it you?” Nezumi snarled. “Did you shoot him?”

She looked familiar. The woman from the Yoshidas’ house—Mai or Mirai or whatever the fuck—only now she was not yelling or afraid. She looked serene as a panther as she stalked toward him.

Nezumi felt a flare of strength—accompanied by a piercing headache right in the center of his forehead. He was still weak from overworking himself, but he had enough anger to kill this woman where she stood. He’d tear her apart with his hands if he had to.

“ _You bitch._ What did you do to Shion?”

The woman transferred the pistol from one hand to the next. Her lips were painted purple, and when she grinned, her mouth stretched across her face like a bruise. Her dark hair was done up in a pretty updo, twisted around a pair of expensive red clips. She looked at Nezumi with an almost conversational air, as if the two of them were old friends and this was part of some elaborate game.

“What needed to be done,” she said simply.

“I’ll kill you!” Nezumi’s vocal cords vibrated painfully with the force of his shouting. “I’ll kill you, you _fucking psycho_!”

Shion was a limp thing in his grip, his eyes growing glassier the longer he lay in Nezumi’s trembling arms. Nezumi’s fingers went to the dart lodged in his throat—but again he couldn’t make himself pull it out, for fear of making a mistake.

There was blood, flowing in a steady stream down Shion’s throat. Bleeding was good. It meant Shion’s heart was still beating. Nezumi clutched him close. Shion felt cold, even tucked in his warm winter jacket, even though he was cradled in Nezumi’s arms.

The woman sauntered closer. She was wearing thick boots, and the snow crunched beneath her feet. She was still smiling. A snake in human flesh, smug and pleased and poised to strike.

Nezumi looked up at her and clenched his teeth so hard his jaw cracked. He focused on her, firing out a command that would have her sprawled on the floor, gurgling like a newborn infant—

And then his impulses were batted aside, like a buzzing fly knocked out of the sky by a newspaper. Nezumi recoiled at the sensation.

The woman smiled with her purple lips and tilted her head to the side, pointing to her ear with a slim manicured finger.

 _Scrambler_. _Fucking…_ Nezumi’s vision blurred red and gray. _Fuck._

The headache was terrible. He wasn’t strong enough to influence this smiling viper, not with a scrambler in her ear. That was why he hadn’t heard her coming—hadn’t heard her until it was too late and Shion was sprawled in his arms, cold and motionless with a dart jutting from his throat.

 _Have to get out of here_. Nezumi hoisted Shion into his lap. He was too light. Hollowed out. Nezumi’s stomach was an agonized knot clenched in terror.

 _Shion_ , he thought, pressing the boy’s head against his shoulder to keep it from rolling about uselessly. _Hang on, Shion. Please_.

Nezumi rose onto his knees—and then there was a shock of electricity in the side of his throat. Straight through the fabric of his scarf and directly into the vein. He hadn’t even noticed the other woman approaching. A red scrambler rested in her ear, too.

 _Useless._ Nezumi’s heart beat so hard he felt it might burst _. Shion… Sh..._

Exhaustion burst through him like a sudden flood. Nezumi felt groggy and dull, his movements slow and difficult. He clenched Shion hard against him, willed all his strength into getting them _out of here_. It was too cold. Shion needed medical attention. Nezumi needed to get him back inside—

His eyes rolled up, and he collapsed onto the porch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday! Join us next week!**


	26. Ensnared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, everyone! Happy Monday! We have another chapter for you, and an exciting announcement. We'll be updating a new chapter every Monday _and_ Thursday for the remainder of this fic. So that means two chapters a week instead of one! Hope y'all enhoy it! <3

Nezumi’s world was dark. He thought he might be awake―every inch of his body felt as if he’d been stung by a thousand pissed-off hornets and then submerged in a bathtub filled to the brim with rubbing alcohol―but if he was, he couldn’t move.

Something rumbled in the distance, and Nezumi had just enough sense to recognize it as a vehicle’s engine. He was stretched out on something solid and cold, but he slid back into unconsciousness before he could try to analyze what it could be.

When he woke again, Nezumi found himself staring up at the stars. The frigid air around him pressed down on his limbs like a heavy blanket; it was difficult to breathe, and Nezumi’s chest ached. The endless balls of piercing light high up in the sky wheeled above him. Something beneath him trembled violently.

Voices drifted from above him. The whole world sounded heavy, as if someone had plunged Nezumi deep beneath the surface of a stagnant pool. He could just barely make out the words drifting above him, but not the gender or age of the speakers.

“...should we do with this one?”

“Dispose of it,” replied another with a disinterested snort. “Fennec’s orders.”

“What a waste.”

Nezumi lost consciousness again.

The next time Nezumi woke, he stayed awake. His head throbbed and his eyelids stuck together, crusted with tears. It took considerable effort to peel them open. Every inch of him hurt; his skin was tight with cold, dry sweat.

Nezumi’s vision swam in and out, gray clouds drifting across his pupils until he could focus on the stark-white ceiling stretched out above him. His hair clung to his forehead, unbound and bunched up beneath his skull on a paper-thin pillow. Some of it fell across Nezumi’s eyes, and it took a moment for him to raise his arm and shove it out of his face.

His chest ached, his heart hammering behind his ribs so hard he could feel it through every nerve ending in his body. Nezumi eased himself into an upright position, pausing when dizziness washed over him and turned his stomach. His body had begun to work out the tranquilizers, but the aftershock resided in his bloodstream and slowed him down.

Nezumi squeezed his eyes together as his stomach clenched. How long had he been out? There was a fierce pang in his stomach that meant he was definitely hungry, but the thought of food made him sick.

Panic clawed its way up his throat, but Nezumi choked it back down. _Calm down. It won’t do any good to panic now_. Nezumi drew in a shaky breath and willed himself to stay calm. Analyzing the situation was the only thing he could do now.

He sat on the edge of the mattress and swung his legs over the side. Swallowing around the painful lump in his throat, Nezumi tried to gauge how long he’d been out cold. At least a day. He’d never had experience with tranquilizers, but the agents must have pumped him full of them to neutralize any chance of him fighting back.

He turned his head to get a better look at where he’d been placed, but his vision swam, peppered gray and black on the edges. Nezumi squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingers onto the edge of the paper-thin mattress pad, hoping the nausea would pass.

Behind his clenched eyelids, Nezumi could see the snowy yard outside the front door of the cabin, peppered with blue and gray stars. The terrifying world yawned around him as he and Shion left the tranquility of their temporary lodging with no plan except to move forward.

The faded, pale images coalesced into a crystal-clear image of Shion’s eyes rolling into the back of his head, his knees crumpling beneath him as he collapsed onto the porch with blood trickling from his throat. Cold terror and violent rage was quickly replaced with a burning pain in the side of Nezumi’s throat before everything went black.

Surrounded in painful darkness, a horrific sense of reality came crashing around him.

The Lab.

Nezumi was in Horizon Labs.

 _Fuck_.

**⁂**

Horizon Laboratories, Incorporated was located on the outskirts of Tokyo. As one of the most prominent pharmaceutical companies in Japan, the Lab’s physical location wasn’t an exact secret. Nezumi had seen photos of it in news articles. He’d seen its pristine white walls and high glass windows on grainy television screens in run-down bars that didn’t card.

Nezumi had never risked Tokyo. Outsmarting the Lab from a comfortable distance was one thing, but evading them on their home turf?

Impossible.

So Nezumi avoided Tokyo altogether. He clung to small towns as best he could, venturing into the big cities now and then only because the Lab’s agents wouldn’t expect a move like that. Thick forests provided the best cover; Nezumi preferred the comfort of the fresh air and crisp morning leaves, so close to the place he’d called home that sometimes, he could picture his mother and father lingering among the trees.

Nezumi swallowed, and swallowed again.

He was on the wrong side of the Lab’s pristine white walls. Instead of the stars and moon above his head, blinding lights shone from the white concrete ceiling eight feet above. Instead of the soft forest floor stretched out beneath him, a metal prison bed kept Nezumi less than a foot off the hard concrete ground.

His worst fears had come to fruition. Nezumi was deep in the heart of enemy territory, a prisoner with no chance of escape.

His parents had never gone into graphic detail about their time as the Lab’s prisoners, but on the few occasions they spoke to Nezumi of its dangers, their recountings of their cells described it simply as gray.

Gray walls, gray floors, gray bars.

But that had been almost eighteen years ago, and Horizon Labs had accumulated a vast amount of wealth in that time. The cage Nezumi found himself in now was pristine, white, and clearly expensive. No gray cement walls and cross-hatched jail cell bars, but an illuminated glass case, as if he were some precious ornament on display.

A horrible thought shot through Nezumi’s brain like lightning.

 _Shion_.

Where was Shion? On the other side of the glass wall was an unoccupied cage, similar to his own, but that didn’t mean anything. It was possible the dart had plunged too deep into an artery and Shion was restrained in an infirmary somewhere.

Nezumi could still see him, sprawled on the porch and bleeding steadily from his throat. He sat on the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands, pressing the heels of his palms so hard against his closed eyelids that he saw red and blue stars amidst the darkness.

Shion was fine.

He had to be.

Nezumi didn’t want to think about the alternative. Shion was the most dangerous between them, so of course he’d been knocked unconscious first. It made sense. A direct strike to an artery would ensure that the tranquilizer entered right into his bloodstream. Shion was a valuable asset, and the Lab wouldn’t risk any unnecessary harm coming to him.

Right?

Nezumi exhaled hard. He needed to calm down. Panic bubbled up inside him like a sickness, and if he let it consume him, he’d never claw his way to the surface.

For now, Nezumi distracted himself by focusing on the room. His cell was small, about eight feet by nine feet and made of bright white concrete, with the farthest wall in front of him made of reinforced glass. Nezumi could see out into the hall—it too was completely white, with painfully bright LED lights burning from the high ceiling.

Nezumi stretched his ankles and flexed his bare feet. His boots had been taken. In fact, now that he focused down at himself, all of his clothes had been taken. They’d been replaced by a jumpsuit made of scratchy fabric in the most hideous shade of army green Nezumi had ever seen. It stood out among the stark white of his prison cell, illuminated by the brilliant lights.

Analyzing his situation in a technical manner kept him calm. If Nezumi continued to sit on the edge of the bed and let his thoughts swim around him, he’d descend into the roaring sea of panic.

A quick survey of the room told Nezumi it would be difficult to escape. There was a single twin-sized mattress with a rough white blanket, barely long enough to be considered a towel. The floor sloped to a drain, and a squat toilet sat jammed against the wall. Nezumi looked at the wall across from him.

A metal showerhead stuck out from the top of the wall, too high for Nezumi to reach. A plastic tarp hung from a plastic hook that had been bolted to the wall. There was another hook for the tarp to be hung from, creating a makeshift shower curtain to allow for a bit of privacy—but glancing up, Nezumi realized that it was simply to keep whatever neighbor he had in the opposite cell from seeing him.

On the ceiling were two round security cameras. Someone sat on the other side, in a comfortable room, watching Nezumi twenty-four-seven.

There was no inch of the cell that wouldn’t be within view of at least one of the cameras at all times. The mattress was suspended from the wall, bolted to it, with nothing to break off and fasten into a weapon.

Nezumi looked over at the glass. _Reinforced_. The Lab wouldn’t be stupid enough to place him in a cage with a breakable glass wall. Unease shot through him again. Horizon Labs had upgraded since his parents were its unwilling guests. Any information Nezumi had about the inside of the facility was well outdated.

He clenched his muscles and flexed his fingers. The panic was steadily returning. An image of Shion sprawled on the porch, bleeding out in his arms, flashed through Nezumi’s mind.

Nezumi took a few deep breaths and tried to think of something else.

Somewhere nearby, a door clicked open. Nezumi paused and listened. The open door ushered in a new sound: the crowded chatter of people. It only lasted a moment before the door banged shut with a metallic thunk. 

Heavy footsteps echoed on the concrete floor, quickly clearing the hall and approaching Nezumi’s cell. Nezumi raised his head.

A tall man dressed in a crisp black suit strode into view. He held himself up with a self-important air, his dark eyes glinting behind a pair of square spectacles. His hair was cropped close to his skull and dyed an obvious shade of unnatural black.

Nezumi watched him as he reached the cage. The man had a bemused look on his face, peering at Nezumi over the rim of his glasses as if he were an interesting new attraction at a local zoo.

“Well, well.” The man’s expression drifted somewhere between sadistic amusement and smug superiority. “Look who’s awake.”

Nezumi set his jaw. He stilled the trembling in his hands and straightened his spine. If he was stuck as a prisoner in the Lab, he wasn’t going to let them see him fall apart.

A bright red scrambler sat in the man’s ear. Nezumi had been expecting it, but seeing it sent a surge of hopelessness washing through him that he hoped the man wouldn’t notice.

“You know, the resemblance is uncanny.” The man’s lips drew back in a crooked smile. “No one’s been able to get a good picture of you for years, so we’ve only had reports to go on. You’re something of a celebrity here, you know. Had a whole audience while you were knocked out just to see if you were real.”

Nezumi’s stomach churned at the thought of people coming by just to gawk at him while he was unconscious.

“Not very talkative, are you?” The man’s nose wrinkled. “Must take after your mother. She didn’t talk much, either.”

Nezumi felt a rush of anger blast through his chest, but he swallowed it down. This man wanted to goad him, and Nezumi wouldn’t allow it. He squared his shoulders and gave the man his fiercest glare, but stuck to his calculated silence.

“Ooh, scary. Keep that up and you might lose some of your fans.” The man knocked his fist against the glass wall. A small smile flashed over his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It gave Nezumi the impression of a demon or shapeshifter aping human emotions and failing in the creepiest way possible. 

“Welcome to Horizon Labs,” he said, not sounding the least bit welcoming. “My name is Rashi, but you will call me ‘Sir.’ I’m the officer in charge of Section M. We’re going to become well-acquainted with each other during your stay with us, so I’d drop the attitude if I were you. Unless, of course, you enjoy pain.”

 _Section M_. Nezumi’s stomach dropped. His parents had never mentioned the Lab’s prison being divided into sections. How many others were there?

Rashi nudged the glass wall with his heavy boot, and Nezumi looked down. There was a small metal box attached to the ground, beside a thin hinge in the glass. _A door_. There was no handle that Nezumi could see. The box on the ground was clearly a slot to deposit food, but a quick survey of the mechanism let Nezumi know it was designed not to open on both sides at one time.

Rashi bumped the box again with his foot. “Meals will be placed here. You’ll get two a day—lucky you. When you’re done, you’ll place the tray here. No, you can’t keep it. Won’t do you any good anyway.” He cocked his head. “We’ve taken extra precautions as far as you’re concerned. Whatever nonsense you’ve got planned, just know we’ll always be three steps ahead of you. You’re in _our_ world now.

“Should you get any heroic ideas, I’m instructed to use whatever force is necessary to bring you to heel. I have this nifty buzz baton.” Rashi tapped his hip, where a long, sleek cylinder hung. The handle was black and grooved, and the tip was a vibrant blue, the color of a robin’s egg. “Despite the cute name, it packs quite a punch. I’ve seen it take down VCs ten times your size with a single zap, so I’m not sure you’ll like what it does to such a svelte personage as yours.”

Nezumi could practically feel this sicko’s excitement vibrating the glass. He _wanted_ Nezumi to try something so he could have the pleasure of trying out his torture toys. This was exactly the type of sociopath he imagined working at the Lab.

“And, of course,” Rashi continued with a shrug, “should you prove any real threat to us, I’m allowed to neutralize you on the spot with my gun. But I don’t think you’re dumb enough for it to come to that. At least, I hope not. That’d be a little anticlimactic after all these years of cat and mouse, don’t you think?”

Rashi’s coal black eyes bored into Nezumi’s from behind his glasses, still as quiet and unsmiling as ever. The look was pure malice, though Nezumi couldn’t imagine what he had done to personally offend this man so deeply. Perhaps superhumans in general turned his stomach.

Nezumi let out a steady breath.

Rashi drew back from the glass and sighed, as if disappointed. “You must be tired,” he said with false sympathy. “It’s been a long day. If you need anything, just give the camera a wave”—he gestured up to the cameras embedded in the ceiling—“and someone will show up… eventually.”

Rashi’s words drifted over him, but Nezumi’s attention was arrested by Rashi’s hand. When he’d first come into view, his hands were folded behind his back, refusing Nezumi a solid look at his fingers.

On his right hand, as it slowly drifted down through the air, Nezumi could plainly see that the ring and pinky fingers were missing. No stumps or remnants of finger remained. The digits were simply gone, leaving an unnatural gap beside his middle finger.

Rashi saw Nezumi staring and narrowed his eyes. He slowly returned his hand to his side, but to Nezumi’s surprise he didn’t attempt to hide it from view. A dark look crossed Rashi’s face as he watched Nezumi for a moment, the gears working inside his skull.

Nezumi’s stomach dropped beneath Rashi’s scrutiny. Adrenaline spiked through him. If Rashi came through that door, Nezumi wasn’t certain he’d be able to make a break for it. Rashi was tall and broad, and the look on his face…

Hatred.

The darkness bled out of Rashi’s expression as suddenly as it had arrived. He turned and began to walk down the hall without a word.

“What happened to Shion?”

The words left Nezumi’s mouth before he could cage them.

Rashi paused.

Nezumi tried to look disinterested, as if he were simply asking for the weather. He needed to tread carefully. Something was… off about the commanding officer of Section M, and Nezumi knew it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.

Rashi wrinkled his nose. “ _Shion?_ Oh, you mean that little hell raiser.” He waved his damaged hand dismissively. “Once the reports came flooding in about that incident in Okaida, he was immediately labeled an S-class threat. We don’t bother with those, you see. Too much work to keep them restrained, and what happens if he loses his shit again? Too much liability. So our Director instructed us to do what was right.”

He reached into his suit pocket. Nezumi’s stomach dropped as he slowly drew something thin and colorful out. It jangled as the little silver charms clanked against one another.

Rashi nudged the little metal box with his foot again, and it clanked open. He deposited the tangle of silver and thread into it, then swiftly shut it. The opening inside Nezumi’s cage clicked and thunked open.

Nezumi stared at Shion’s charm bracelet, horror surging through him as the words left Rashi’s mouth:

“We had him put down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday and Thursday! See you in the next one!**


	27. Drained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, our first Thursday update since we started posting chapters for this fic! How exciting! We hope you all enjoy it! <3

The man kept his face blank as Fennec inevitably gave the kill order. He had grown accustomed to his friend’s tangents and obsessive need to be in control, but that didn’t make Fennec seem any less ridiculous. They were in the business of manufacturing superhumans with unpredictable powers; there was only so much control to be had.

Though Fennec was funding and spearheading Horizon Lab’s genetic testing and conditioning program, it often felt like he didn’t completely understand how very _big_ this undertaking was. How _life-changing_ it would be once they had perfected their methods.

The man respected and understood Fennec, of course, but being his oldest friend and closest confidante, he knew the man’s limitations. He was cautious to the defect of small-mindedness.

So their experiments resulted in a few high-risk mutations. So those VCs went off and killed a few people from time to time. Not every subject was perfect, but that didn’t mean they were beyond usefulness. In fact, wouldn’t such strong, effective specimens suit Fennec’s original intention perfectly?

He and Fennec began this project because Fennec had aspirations for their groundbreaking research in strength-enhancing drugs. He believed that once they had a stable version, they could offer the drug to the government as something that might be useful to the country’s people in times of global conflict. Technically, they were not supposed to have an army, but if one paid any attention to the worldwide climate, it was plain to see that things were precarious. They could not afford to sit back and be caught unawares.

The man didn’t care much for the government or world politics, personally, but Fennec liked to pretend he was a patriot, so the man let him dream, as long as he had free rein in the lab.

When Horizon Labs originally formed its research group for the project, the plan was to create a serum that could enhance a person’s genetics: to make them stronger, faster, smarter. Everything a super-soldier would need to ensure his superiority over his adversaries. The preliminary trials had gone very well. The test subjects showed marked improvements, physically and mentally. Fennec was very pleased and eager to share their progress, but the man cautioned patience. He couldn’t help but feel they could do better. He tweaked their serum a bit further, just to see if they could get _more._

And they did.

They unlocked something extraordinary.

Suddenly, the injected subject was not just fast, he could fly. She was not just intelligent, she could read exactly what you were thinking. The drug had not simply enhanced sinew and synapses as before, it had altered the subjects’ biology and unleashed hitherto unknown abilities. It was incredible!

The serum affected each individual differently, however. No two subjects developed the same powers, at least not that the man had seen. The tweaked serum no longer improved musculature and brainpower across the board like the first, weaker drug intended. Fennec, not being a fan of uncertainty, urged them to return to the old version.

But the man refused to step backwards.

They were onto something far greater than a government defense contract. They were propagating a new generation of humanity. A more powerful version than nature could ever hope to produce. This was the next step in human evolution, and the man would not pause his progress simply because lesser minds feared the ramifications.

It took many long talks and several arguments, but eventually, he was able to bring Fennec around. They were still making super-soldiers, but even better, they were superpowered now. They redubbed the project Valiant and its subjects VCs, for Valiant Candidates, and forged ahead.

Except that Fennec would not forge completely ahead. He treated the subjects with suspicion and fear, and the moment one looked like too much trouble, he demanded it be euthanized. Didn’t he realize that the stronger, more volatile ones were all the more important? Those were the perfect soldiers. The ones you dispatched when you wanted the job done quickly and thoroughly.

But, no, it’s too dangerous, Fennec said. They cannot be allowed to live in civilized society, Fennec said.

“Are you listening?” Fennec said.

“Yes, of course,” the man responded.

Fennec glared up at him from his seat behind his desk. The man wondered when this conversation would end so he could return to his experiments. He disliked Fennec’s office, with all its varnished wood and useless trinkets. He longed to be back in his pristine white, sterile lab. The clock paperweight on the desk chided the silence with a soft _tic-tic-tic_.

“I agree, the boy is very dangerous,” the man continued, since it seemed his friend was not satisfied with a mere confirmation that he had been tuned in to his tangent. “We can’t have him near the other VCs.”

Fennec narrowed his eyes at him, but whatever he was looking for, he would never find it. “He’s too dangerous to be around regular people, let alone VCs. He killed one of our own. His mutation is too unpredictable. You _will_ have him put down.”

The man paused in fidgeting with the sleeves of his white lab coat and glanced up over his spectacles. Neither of them were very attractive in their middle age, but Fennec appeared especially off-putting when he barked orders like an overbearing schoolmarm.

“Yes, of course,” the man sighed. “Come now, Fennec, don’t you think I know the procedure already? I’ve already taken care of him; you don’t need to worry.”

The man untucked the folder from beneath his arm and stepped forward to drop it on the desk. The folder contained the photo and profile of the VC in question: a sixteen-year-old boy with telekinetic powers.

Fennec raised an eyebrow at the folder without opening it. He leaned back in his sleek, ergonomic chair and crossed his arms. “People talk, you know. And some have said that I _do_ need to worry. That you’re doing your own experiments on the side. Behind my back.”

“Do they? And you believe them?”

Fennec said nothing, which said everything.

The man sighed again, his shoulders slumping in his lab coat. “Fennec,” he began. His friend’s ears twitched in displeasure. “We’ve been friends for how many decades now? We started Horizon Labs together. Do you think I would do anything to jeopardize my work?”

“Our work.”

“Apologies, but when was the last time you looked through a microscope?”

Fennec pursed his lips. The man smiled and pushed his spectacles up on his nose. They weren’t slipping, but it was a compulsive gesture that he hadn’t had the time yet to master.

“Well…” Fennec mumbled. He thumbed open the file.

A big red “TERMINATED” spanned across the photo of the VC, plain and as inarguable as blood spatter. Fennec pawed through the notes, personal data, and biology reports for a few sulky seconds before snapping the folder closed.

“Fine,” he said, and jabbed it back at the man. “Just—be careful.”

The man took the folder with a low chuckle. His lab coat crinkled crisply as he tucked it under his arm again. “Anything else?”

“Make sure the other ones stay in line.” Fennec shooed him with a hand then swiveled around to look out his bay window, which framed the sprawling vista of a snow-coated Tokyo. It was quite pretty. To those who liked those sorts of things.

“Yessir,” the man murmured, a smirk curling the corner of his lips.

He left Fennec to his sulking and meditation and headed down the stairs towards his labs.

**⁂**

Nezumi sat on the edge of the cot and tried to think.

Rashi’s words echoed in his head like a swarm of infuriated bees.

 _We had him put down_.

After dropping Shion’s charm bracelet into the meal slot, Rashi had turned with a smug smile and disappeared down the hall. The loud clang of the metal door shutting sent chills skittering down Nezumi’s spine as he was left alone.

Nezumi fiddled with the charms around his wrist. When he finally shook away the horror, he’d snatched Shion’s bracelet from the box and retreated to the cot, cradling it like a precious treasure in his hands. Worried about something happening to it, he’d quickly tied it around his own wrist, the cool silver charms resting against his skin.

Nezumi traced the delicate shape of the little butterfly. It had settled against his pulse point.

Shion couldn’t be dead. It had to be a trick. The Lab likely assumed Nezumi’s fondness for Shion based on their impromptu partnership and reports from the agents they’d unfortunately crossed paths with. Rashi’s words were nothing more than a nasty trick to bring Nezumi to his knees.

Nezumi took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Panicking wouldn’t help him. The security cameras embedded in the ceiling documented his every movement. Nezumi imagined Rashi sat on the other end of those cameras much of the time, hands folded on his desk as he waited for misery to consume Nezumi and shatter the bravado he’d possessed since waking in this horrible place.

Rashi was a sadist. The cynical glint in his eyes as he’d informed Nezumi about all the ways he’d incapacitate him should he attempt to escape was more than enough of a giveaway.

At the moment, Rashi was the one Nezumi needed to be concerned about. If he let himself fall to pieces, Rashi would latch onto it with everything he had and pull him apart, thread by thread, until there was nothing left.

Nezumi might have been the one trapped inside a cage, but he could win if he avoided giving Rashi what he so desperately wanted.

 _Shion’s fine_ , Nezumi told himself. He was somewhere else in the Lab, probably still unconscious. Rashi had been right about one thing: Shion _was_ a hell raiser, and if he wasn’t unconscious, he’d raze this whole place to the ground until he knew where they’d taken Nezumi.

To distract himself from the crystal-clear memory of Shion’s eyes rolling up into his skull, of the blood steadily trickling down his throat and staining the porch, Nezumi examined the layout of his prison cell.

The solid glass in front of him provided him a clear view out into the hallway. There was a door to the right, down what sounded like a medium-sized hallway. Maybe fifty feet or so from where Nezumi sat. Nezumi could see at least one other cage, but there were likely more in this small enclosure. Empty, from the sounds of it, but definitely others.

From what Rashi told him, Nezumi had been placed inside someplace called Section M. He wondered if this particular hallway was the only expanse of Section M, or if it spanned another series of cages. Rashi’s “I-am-your-God-now” attitude hadn’t given Nezumi much to work with in regard to potential cellmates.

How many others were stuck inside Section M?

For that matter, how many other superhumans were trapped inside Horizon Labs?

Nezumi shook his head. That knowledge wouldn’t aid in his escape plan right now. He couldn’t bring the others with him. If he seized the opportunity to make a break for it and others managed to escape in the crossfire, then that was a bonus. But Nezumi’s primary concern was only to break himself out of confinement, locate Shion―they must have been holding him in a maximum-security location if he was, in fact, an S-class threat―and shake this place to the ground.

Guilt ate at the pit of Nezumi’s stomach as he thought about all the potential men and women trapped in glass cages similar to his own. People like his parents who’d been captured, tormented, and used as guinea pigs for the Lab’s sinister agenda.

Nezumi couldn’t save them all. If he could manage to liberate a few, then that would be enough. Tearing the Lab to the ground and ensuring they could never do this to anyone else again was his main reason for living. If their sacrifice meant destroying the Lab for good, he figured the others might forgive him.

Nezumi rose from the cot and stretched his spine. Sitting wasn’t distracting him the way he’d hoped. _Focus on the room. Can I escape? Is there anything I can use?_ He paced the room, trailing his fingers slowly on the walls. The solid concrete had been painted a brilliant shade of white, almost painful to look at beneath the LED lights.

Was that the Lab’s intention―to make the cages so bright that it disoriented the prisoners within and discouraged them from using their abilities?

The light definitely bothered Nezumi, but it was no different than morning sunlight glinting off a layer of freshly-fallen snow. His eyes ached at first, but he adjusted to it quickly enough.

He wandered slowly toward the little shower section and peered around the flimsy curtain. The toilet looked clean enough, but having an audience watching him go wasn’t high on Nezumi’s bucket list. He turned away from it with disgust and surveyed the showerhead. A shower sounded nice, in theory, but Nezumi wasn’t foolish enough to expect the luxury of hot water. He wouldn’t put it past a freak like Rashi to pump icy water down on his head for about fifteen seconds before shutting it off and leaving him to shiver.

Nezumi crossed to the outline of the door embedded in the glass wall. There was, of course, no handle on his side, and the thin line in the glass marking the location of the door was too small to jam anything through.

Nezumi squatted next to the metal meal box and nudged it with his fingers. The little mechanism keeping it closed allowed it to be opened easily on the outside, but it could only be opened on his side once the outside was safely locked. A good way to ensure Nezumi couldn’t jam his hand inside and snag something―a key, a ring, a _finger_ ―from whoever was tasked with delivering his meals.

Nezumi bit his lower lip. The Lab had thought up any possible escape routes Nezumi might have taken. The guards who came into the area would all have scramblers, and if Nezumi couldn’t get into a physical altercation with them and remove the irritating red buds by force, he’d never have a chance of commanding them to let him loose.

He sat on the floor and wrung his wrists.

 _Calm down_ , he told himself. He didn’t need to formulate a concrete escape plan now. The thought of staying a long-term prisoner wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, but the Lab would be expecting him to try and escape quickly.

If Nezumi pretended to be defeated by his capture and Shion’s supposed demise, then maybe the Lab would begin to underestimate him. Their arrogance over his capture would become their ultimate downfall. Rashi seemed smart enough to outpace him for a little while―but Nezumi had a world of patience he’d gathered after years on the run. He could wait Rashi out. Wait for the perfect moment when his guard was down and then strike.

Everyone slipped up eventually.

Nezumi’s throat tightened. He could still feel the phantom sensation of Shion’s unconscious body in his arms, limp and cold and bleeding out.

Yes. Everyone.

**⁂**

Sometime later, the door at the end of the hall banged open.

Nezumi, crouched on the floor by the meal box, lifted his head.

A tall woman appeared on the other side of the glass and stopped in front of his cell. She wore a crisp black blazer with a neat pencil skirt and a tall pair of needle-sharp black heels, utterly impractical for field work.

Her thin lips, painted an unflattering shade of bright blue, drew back over her pristine white teeth as she looked down at him. Her long hair sat coiled into a neat braid at the back of her skull, twisted up and held in place by a pair of expensive clips the same color as her lipstick.

Nezumi’s throat tightened at the sight of her. She was the woman from the Yoshida’s front yard―the same woman who’d plunged a tranquilizer dart deep into Shion’s throat and taken him out of commission.

He remembered her name now. _Mirai._

Fury exploded through him, and Nezumi struggled to cage it. He ruthlessly forced himself not to spring at the glass and punch it until his hands were bloody. His vision danced with clouds of gray and scarlet, blocking out the crisp white world, leaving nothing but the outline of the wicked woman standing before him.

Mirai held a blue plastic tray in her hand, the top of which was encased in a clear cover. Her dark eyes flicked over Nezumi’s expression, taking in the rage simmering beneath the surface. With the barrier of impenetrable glass between them, she was like a completely different woman; the terror that had gripped her when Shion threw the Yoshida’s yard into chaos was gone now. She didn’t fear Nezumi. With the scrambler settled in her left ear, something Nezumi couldn’t manhandle away from her from inside his cage, he was absolutely no threat to her.

“I brought you dinner,” she said, her voice dripping with false hospitality. “If you want it, I’ll need you to move away from the box.” She indicated toward the meal box, sitting on the floor directly near her ankle.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes. The mechanism of the cage’s meal drop prevented him from snatching her wrist and snapping every single bone in it, and Mirai absolutely knew that. But Nezumi was a prisoner, as much hers as he was Rashi’s. Her orders came simply because Nezumi had no choice but to obey.

His body ached with a combination of anger and shame as he slid back on the concrete floor, leaving a large space between himself and the glass wall.

Mirai twisted her body slightly to the side, shoving her hip toward him. The edge of her blazer jutted out a bit, informing Nezumi that there was a pistol hidden at her side.

“You’d better keep those hands where I can see them.”

Nezumi raised his hands in the air and stared her down.

Mirai clicked her tongue.

For a moment, she looked like she would drop the plate of food onto the floor and simply leave it there. Chalk it up to an “accident” and come back later with something else, putting an unnatural length of time between the two deliveries and then excuse it to her superiors by saying, “Something important came up and it totally slipped my mind! I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

She thought better of it and shoved the tray into the box. She clicked a button, and her side immediately snapped shut. The whir of metal chimed on Nezumi’s side, and the little slat tumbled open, giving him a clear shot at the food.

He didn’t make a move toward it. He looked up at Mirai, with her dark eyes and sinister grin, and thought of every horrible thing he’d do to her the moment he was free from this cage.

Mirai swiftly withdrew her gun from her side and held it loosely in her hand. Her cold, superior expression let Nezumi know she was hoping he’d do something stupid. She wanted him to lunge for the glass so she had an excuse to shoot him.

“Y’know, I’m glad they put your little friend down,” she drawled. “I wasn’t there myself, of course, but watching that monster go down when I put the dart in him… Ah, what a relief. The world’s going to be better off without that wretched thing.”

Nezumi sunk his teeth into his lower lip. The taste of blood danced on the edge of his tongue. _Take out the scrambler_ , he thought, staring into her dark eyes and willing it with everything he had. _Take it out and let me destroy you_.

Mirai didn’t remove her scrambler.

She turned with a snide laugh and disappeared down the hall.

When the door banged shut, Nezumi doubled over and clenched his fists. His nails bit into his skin, and Nezumi let the pain wash over him. He felt it wriggling between the waves of hatred, needling its way into his subconscious and reminding him that he needed to be stronger than them. Mirai and Rashi and whatever other fucking monsters worked in this place wanted him to think it was hopeless. Taunting him with Shion’s death―God, evening _thinking_ of that lie made Nezumi’s stomach churn―and shoving his captivity in his face were their cheap attempts at whittling down his sanity.

_You’re stronger than them._

_You have to be_.

The first step of beating them was not letting them know Mirai’s horrible words had robbed him of whatever minuscule appetite he had.

Nezumi slowly approached the box and extracted the food. The plastic tray was small and in poor condition, chipped at the edges and wobbly in Nezumi’s palms. It felt cold, the food contained within likely prepped in a microwave and left to stand for sometime. Beneath the thin plastic cover was a heap of lumpy, gray mashed potatoes, a half-spoonful of dried peas, and a thin strip of what Nezumi assumed was supposed to be meat, but better resembled a fat slab of cheap beef jerky.

He removed the cover and observed his meal. The scent wasn’t… great, and it took Nezumi a moment to realize Mirai hadn’t left him any silverware. He looked into the metal box again, wondering if perhaps he’d simply overlooked it―but no, the box was empty and cold.

Nezumi exhaled through his nose. At least his food had come on a plate rather than jammed into a dog bowl.

He retreated to his cot with the food. He wasn’t hungry anymore. His stomach felt like a pile of rocks had settled in the pit, churning whenever he recounted how he’d gotten here and how badly he’d screwed up. If he put food in his stomach now, he knew it wouldn’t stay for long.

But he’d gone a while without any type of nourishment, and if he was going to keep his wits about him, he needed to stay energized.

Nezumi picked up the meat and nibbled at the end. It didn’t taste like much of anything. Solid and burnt, without a hint of seasoning. Nezumi had tasted worse. Years on the run meant getting nutrients in whatever form they came, and Nezumi had eaten some pretty disgusting things when he got desperate. It was better than nothing.

He managed to consume the entire piece of meat, but didn’t see any way to eat the potatoes and veggies without using his hands and making a mess. Did they expect him to get on his hands and knees like a dog and eat it?

Nezumi set the tray down on the cot and folded his hands. He could wave at the camera. Rashi might come if he did. Nezumi could picture him sauntering up to the glass, that cold smile on his face, hand on the butt of his gun, laughing maliciously while Nezumi informed him that he would prefer a spoon.

Nezumi rapped his fingers against the edge of the tray. He supposed he could just swallow his dignity and eat with his hands. But knowing that Rashi or Mirai were likely sitting on the other end of that camera, watching his every move, judging him like he was an animal in a zoo, made him sick to his stomach all over again.

He picked the tray up, crossed the cell, and shoved it back in the metal box. He’d gone longer without food. It wouldn’t do him much good to get it in his system if he was just going to deposit it into the toilet less than five minutes later. He could blame his lack of appetite on whatever cocktail of drugs they’d pumped into his bloodstream to knock him unconscious. He’d been captured some time ago, at least a day, and he didn’t know how long the drugs would last in his system. Maybe the Lab themselves didn’t even know.

Nezumi went back to the cot and held his head in his hands. This was just day one. How much longer could he go on like this?

“ _Whatever nonsense you’ve got planned, just know we’ll always be three steps ahead of you. You’re in our world now_.”

Nezumi was loath to admit they might be right. He had no exit plan. He had no idea about the layout of the Lab. He had no idea where Shion was being held, and he didn’t know how long he could stand up against them if things continued to stay this way.

Nezumi leaned back against the wall, pulled his knees to his chest, and buried his face in them. He took a few deep breaths and exhaled. Helplessness made him sick. It tasted like over-salted soup on his tongue.

**⁂**

Nezumi didn’t know how long he sat there, curled into himself, letting the weight of his horrid situation crush down around him. There was nothing to mark the passage of time―no clocks to mark the hour or windows to tell him if it was day or night―but even if there had been, Nezumi wasn’t in a good enough mindset to notice it.

The taste of the disgusting meat had faded, his taste buds already adjusting to the lack of flavor. The thickness of unshed tears choked him, but Nezumi couldn’t let them fall just yet. The lies the Lab had told him echoed in his ears, even now, but Nezumi struggled to rise above them. If he gave in, then all was truly lost.

Nezumi lifted his face, squinting through the brightness. The lights hadn’t faded since he’d arrived. If he’d been here for a day now, then it was clear the Lab didn’t believe in turning the lights down to let their prisoners sleep.

He saw something in his periphery―someone sitting upright on the cot in the cage across the hall from him―and his heart jump-started.

 _Shion_.

He sat on the edge of the cot, staring at the wall ahead of him.

Nezumi hurtled himself off the cot and rushed over the glass. He slammed himself against it, almost forgetting it was separating them. He pressed his hand against it, feeling the coolness of the hall beyond. “Shion.” His voice trembled, relief shaking through him like an earthquake. Nezumi banged his hand on the glass. “Hey, you all right?”

Shion wasn’t wearing the same forest green jumpsuit as Nezumi. He was still dressed in his winter coat, the purple woolen cap yanked over his unruly brown hair. He wavered upright on the cot, looking fit to fall over.

Nezumi struck his fist against the glass. The solid wall before him didn’t move. Nezumi couldn’t break it if he tried.

The door at the end of the hall banged open. Heavy footfalls thundered on the concrete, and then Rashi, flanked by two guards dressed from head to toe in black, appeared directly outside Shion and Nezumi’s cages.

Rashi completely ignored Nezumi and turned to look at Shion. “That one’s an S-class threat,” he announced to no one in particular. “You have your orders, Tsuyu.”

“Yes, sir.” One of the soldiers, a young man with a sharp face and dyed blond hair, broke away from the flank. He quickly unlocked the door to Shion’s cage and ducked inside. The door snapped shut behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot through Nezumi’s soul.

Shion’s head lifted, slowly, as the guard marched toward him.

Nezumi slammed himself against the glass. His shoulder bounced against it. He threw himself against it, again and again. He needed to shatter it. He needed to get out of here.

Rashi’s eyes slid to him, his lips drawn in a nasty grin.

Tsuyu undid the sleek silver pistol strapped to his hip and pressed the barrel against Shion’s forehead.

Shion didn’t move.

Nezumi slammed his fists against the glass until they were bloody. _No. No, no, no!_ Terror spiked through him, electricity dancing down each nerve ending. _Don’t you dare. You can’t! Shion―_

Tsuyu’s finger squeezed.

Shion’s head snapped back.

Nezumi screamed―

And snapped upright. His heart pounded in his chest. Blood rushed in his ears like a heavy roll of thunder, gray stars fluttering in front of his eyes.

He glanced around the room, the bright LED lights stinging and bright. Nezumi’s eyes watered. He looked over at the other cage. It was empty, the pristine white wall unmarked by blood and brain matter, as it always had been.

Nezumi closed his eyes. A nightmare. That was all it had been. He pressed his forehead against his knees, still coiled against his chest, and breathed.

He must have fallen asleep. His neck ached from the uncomfortable angle he’d dozed off in, but the pain reminded him that this, at least, was real. His knuckles weren’t bleeding or even bandaged. There hadn’t been pain in his nightmare, a testament that it was a horrible conjuring of his subconscious and not a painful memory.

The image of Shion’s head snapping back leached into his brain like a scab. He shook his head to clear it. If he thought about it any more, he’d go mad. Any bravado he’d built up would vanish and he’d start pleading for answers.

 _Shion’s fine_ , Nezumi told himself, though it didn’t sound as convincing as before.

The door at the end of the hall banged open. Nezumi’s heart rate spiked. He swallowed the fear surging through him, his nerves knocked askew by his nightmare. There wasn’t any time to appropriately regain his composure, so he settled for sitting upright and watching the glass wall with hawk-like intensity, as if he’d been anticipating their arrival.

Rashi swung into view, two guards in black flanking him.

Nezumi’s mouth went dry.

“Oh, good,” Rashi smirked, “you’re awake.” He gestured to the soldiers. “Tsuyu, would you do the honors?”

One of them broke away from the group, went to the door, and opened it.

 _Tsuyu_. He looked exactly as he had in Nezumi’s nightmare. That didn’t mean anything. Nezumi had faded in and out of consciousness during his transport to the Lab. Someone must have addressed him in the same proximity as Nezumi’s unconscious form, and the name had merely leached deep into his subconscious, Tsuyu’s face appearing before him during a brief moment of lucidity.

Knowing that didn’t make it any less unsettling as Nezumi watched Tsuyu close the distance between them.

He gestured to Nezumi with his gun, clutched loosely in his hand. “On your feet.”

Nezumi slowly uncurled from his position on the cot and rose. Tsuyu moved to his other side and nudged Nezumi toward the door. Nezumi’s spine went rigid at the sensation of the gun at his spine. For a moment, he considered getting into a physical scrape with Tsuyu. Knock his gun out of his hand, catch him off guard, and take him hostage.

If he could take his gun…

Use Tsuyu as leverage…

But no, that wouldn’t work. With the door shut, Nezumi had no guarantee of escape. Rashi didn’t look like the type to give a damn if one of his coworkers fell into enemy hands. Rashi looked more like the type to simply put Tsuyu down, incapacitate Nezumi with the buzz baton, and chalk the whole incident up to “necessary casualties.”

Nezumi chose the easier path and went toward the door. Rashi opened it slowly, the other guard moving to his side so Nezumi couldn’t hope to dart around them without slamming into them and getting pumped full of bullets.

Rashi motioned to the guard at his side and said, “Benkei?”

Nezumi saw, only momentarily, that the other guard held a burlap sack in his hand before it was yanked over his head. Having his vision cut off made Nezumi’s heart rate jolt up, but he tried to still the trembling in his hands.

Rashi struck Nezumi on the shoulder, in the fleshy spot between his shoulder blade and his neck. It stung, and Nezumi flinched, having been unable to anticipate the strike. “Hands behind your back,” Rashi ordered.

Nezumi complied, and Rashi applied restraints to his wrists. They felt solid and made of metal; nothing Nezumi could dream of breaking free from.

Anxiety shuddered through his core. His vision was cut off and his arms were restrained. Nezumi hadn’t felt this helpless in years. Not since the Lab’s agents had filled his family full of lead and left them to die in the cabin where everything had gone wrong.

Rashi tested the restraints by lifting Nezumi’s arm by the wrist, painfully trapped with the cuffs around them, and laughed when Nezumi couldn’t swallow back a hiss of pain.

Rashi’s fingers slid down Nezumi’s wrist, disturbing the silver charms there. “Aw, you’re wearing it? Isn’t that adorable?” He tugged at one of the charms, hard enough that Nezumi feared he might break it off, and then dropped it back against Nezumi’s skin. “Doesn’t suit you at all, but better on you than on a corpse, I suppose.”

Nezumi pursed his lips.

The metal barrel of the gun jammed against Nezumi’s spine.

“March,” Rashi ordered.

Nezumi walked forward, the guards guiding him. He listened to any sounds he could. With his vision blocked, he tried to focus on the sounds echoing around him. Three sets of boots slamming near him in a flanking position. His bare feet thumping against the solid concrete floors. Rashi moved just a bit ahead of them. At the end of the hall, the sound of metal creaked. Rashi held the door open, and the guards shoved Nezumi through.

He was led through a long series of twisting hallways. Voices churned around him. Nezumi tried to listen and figure out the layout of the room. It was massive―too massive for him to comprehend with the anxiety buzzing around inside his skull. The loud echo of voices coming from someplace nearby hit his eardrums, but none of it made sense. It was too much information all at once. Nezumi heard garbled, metallic sounds, and focusing on it for too long gave him a headache.

He was brought into another hallway, and as a door slammed behind him, the overwhelming sounds from beyond went suddenly silent. The silence was only a momentary relief. Uncertainty inched down Nezumi’s spine like a fat tarantula, cold sweat beading against his skin.

The guards yanked him to a sudden halt. Nezumi heard a heavy door open, and then he was shoved forward. Rashi quickly undid the handcuffs from his wrists. Nezumi’s mind couldn’t form a plan quick enough―too overwhelmed from the sudden sounds pounding around him.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Rashi’s hand went between his shoulder blades.

“Play nice,” Rashi said, and pushed.

Nezumi stumbled forward, and the heavy door slammed behind him.

He waited for a moment, and then he reached up and yanked the burlap sack off his head. He was in another small room, not much larger than his cell. It, too, was bright white and illuminated by LED lights. A small curtain shielded one corner of the room where Nezumi assumed there was a toilet and a small sink. This room had no walls fashioned of impenetrable glass, but somehow, being surrounded on all four sides by solid concrete felt even worse.

Nezumi’s brow furrowed. Another cell? But why would they―

Something moved from behind the curtain, and Nezumi’s heart stopped.

A scruffy brown dog, nearly the size of a German Shepherd, stepped into the middle of the room. Its dark brown eyes locked on him, its pointed nose wrinkling back as it snarled, two rows of sharp white teeth bared.

Nezumi’s spine went straight with terror.

An attack dog.

They’d put him in a room with an attack dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updates occur every Monday and Thursday! See you in the next one!**


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